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TEEN: From the Vast

Interlude IV: Nameless

    • Interlude IV: Nameless​


    click, click, click

    There we go.

    The old man took a deep breath through his freshly lit cigarette, the reeking smoke calming his nerves. Moments later, a drawn out exhale; the light gray plume immediately destroyed by the constant downpour. He shouldn’t be doing this—not anymore, at least.

    He knew that well, but the habit always got the better of him when he had to visit the city. The people, the smells, the noises, the fucking noises. He was supposed to take some pills to keep him from going bonkers in here. They kept making him lethargic, unable to function. After nearly pancaking a pedestrian and ending up only totaling his car, he chose the easier option of moving out of Mistralton.

    Wasn’t a problem all those years ago when he left the army, was even less so nowadays. Guess that whole ‘internet’ thing that cost him an arm and a leg to get installed was good for something, after all. Dealing with paperwork nonsense remotely was just his favorite kind of efficiency. Can’t handle everything like that, though—especially not what he was in there for right now.

    It was more than worth it. He knew that well, too.

    But fucking hell if it wasn’t nerve-wracking.

    Even more than the city, the man was deeply unused to having to stress about anything. Stress was something reserved for people who didn’t plan enough. Something to be dealt with through drills, practice, lists, charts. Criticality incident, do this. Feral mon attack, do that. Hell, they even had a step-by-step plan in the event of a terrorist operation. None of these possibilities phased him in the slightest, but what he was here for today did.

    Because of just how badly he could hurt someone if he messed it up.

    Because there weren’t drills for this.

    Because there couldn’t have been drills for this.

    The last of the cig was gone with a shaky inhale; the butt joined the six others before it and was swiftly crushed under his work boot. He’d stalled enough; he’d have to get moving soon. And yet, he wavered, arms and breaths alike shaking like twigs. Maybe one more?

    ...

    Fuck’s sake, that was the last one.

    The bus ride back home was going to be hellish, but that was then. And now, it was time to repay for all the hurt he’d caused. To pass the little good he could forward.

    With the shakiest breath of his life, the man corrected the cap on his bald head and stepped out from underneath the grocery store’s awning. The frigid rain immediately hit him with all its intensity, almost making him buckle there and then. But he had to keep going. One glance to the side, another; the steady beat of thick boots splashed in the water as they crossed the street. Straight to his destination, in all its colorful, friendly intimidation.

    HEART STAMP POKÉMON SHELTER​

    The melodic chime took him off guard as he walked in, almost as much as the rain did. A couple moments later, the din of rain finally faded with a click of a door. At least, a moment to soothe his nerves and prepare for what was about to happen next.

    ...or just stand there like a dunce.

    All the pastels on the walls and floors contrasted greatly with the mon in the corner. Their mostly black body stood out like a sore thumb, and the white, bow-like... growths on their front didn’t help with that impression either. Name was ‘Goth-something, something’, he didn’t remember how it ended. Plans might’ve been his thing, but he was never good with names, including his own.

    As spooked as most passersby would’ve been by the psychic, the old man’s attention was squarely on the young woman behind a nearby desk. Her expression wasn’t any less confused at his sudden entrance than that of the Gothitelle beside her, but it was easier to recognize as such.

    Especially when accompanied by words, “~...can I help you, mister?~”

    The words were enough to snap him back to a semblance of composure. A part of him wanted to chuckle at the question, absurd and justified at the same time. He sure as hell didn’t look like someone who’d decided to just visit a shelter focusing on psychics; he knew that well. More like a person who’d be protesting the construction of a facility on the news, shouting slurs every other word. And yet, here he was.

    “~Good—cough—good afternoon. I’m... I’m looking to adopt.~”

    The clerk and the psychic beside her looked at each other for a brief, confused moment before the latter nodded first. It was all the reassurance the human needed, immediately getting to clacking away at the keyboard as she replied, “Sure! Your name, mister?”

    A faint noise was her only answer. She glanced away from the bulky monitor to see his ID on the countertop, nodding wordlessly as she typed the name in. He didn’t care about names, especially not his government one. If anything, he cared about it the least out of all the other ones he’s had. ‘Hyde’ in grade school after a character from a book they had to read. ‘Razor’ in his platoon after a particularly traumatizing incident.

    Then, for the past thirty-odd years, just ‘boss’.

    And now... nothing. There wasn’t anyone left to grace him with a name that would be truly his own.

    “~Alright, that’s all done. Would you want me to give you a tour around the place, mister?~”

    The man nodded thoughtlessly as he swiped the plastic card back into his pocket, eyes continuing to glance around the shelter’s lobby. He only paid enough attention to not make even more of a fool out of himself than he already was. Brief rundown of psychics in general, and of species they were housing here in specific. He knew all that already. Those were the parts that he could prepare for, make mental plans, and research further. So many things that sounded outright absurd when stated outright, but which he jotted down as true all the same.

    He’d dealt with enough absurd yet true things in his life to know better. Freaky military tech, the stupid complexity of a nuclear power plant. Growing to think of what initially was a tool to use in case of emergency as a son. Realizing that Geiger’s presence finally made his own life worth living.

    “~If it’s alright for me to ask, mister—why psychics in particular?~” the woman asked. Her question was less disbelief than it was suspicion, and not an unearned sort, either. Those with ulterior motives gravitated to psychics for many reasons, but one stood tall above the rest.

    One that the old man coincidentally shared, too. “~I heard something about them having the hardest time getting adopted.~”

    Very easy to wrap a vulnerable being around one’s finger simply by being their only source of affirmation.

    The piece of trivia stung the woman in its truth; a weak nod was her only response. A couple more obvious instructions later, they finally took off into the nearby corridor. Clerk ahead of him, the Gothitelle behind.

    Flanked as if seeing prisoners.

    The truth was more gilded than that, but only just. His eyes examined every room they walked past as his attention remained withdrawn, the anxiety of having to make a choice getting to him again. He remembered checking the news a few times a day just to see a report of a wild Electivire getting caught by the League for weeks afterwards, but not even the worry of that came close to this.

    It was much easier to be confident in Geiger than in himself.

    The hubbub of the higher-ups’ response to him reporting the Electivire as missing was little more than a murky memory by now. Pointed letters, shouts, threats. He didn’t care, never could, not this close to retirement. Couldn’t nail him with anything in particular. Eventually, the League got involved, sent a snotty kid, and found nothing. Guess a stray, untrained Electivire wasn’t worth the effort beyond putting out a wanted letter just in case someone runs into them—

    “^That’s a pretty beard,^” a boyish voice spoke, breaking through the surrounding murmurs. Hearing voices on their own didn’t phase the man; he was already long used to them. Someone being interested in him, even if for the most banal of reasons, was a different matter, though.

    He hadn’t run into this specific species in his research, but it didn’t matter. They were a person first and foremost, and as far as the old man was concerned, anything beyond that was trivia. Their top half being almost an exact match for Geiger’s shade of yellow was appreciated, though. “~Thanks.~”

    “^What’s that hat?^”

    The man’s damp, bald head shone faintly as he took the white cap off and crouched beside the short fence that blocked his access to the small room. The Drowzee on its other side scooted over, sleepy eyes going wide with curiosity as they followed the unremarkable headgear, the man explaining, “~Just a cap from a place I used to work at.~”

    Before he could finish passing it over, the cap was surrounded in a faint, yellow glow and immediately lowered onto the psychic’s head. Only for them to let out a sudden, nasal squeak and fling the item away, its wet cold catching them off guard.

    The old man had no idea if he should laugh at that, but opted for the safer option, limiting himself to a held-in chuckle. Even if he didn’t express it with outward laughter, he still found it funny, and the Drowzee could tell. And so, the cold, wet hat was lightly flicked over back onto his face, splatting against it.

    The startle made him fall backwards onto his rear, old joints not appreciating it one bit. He couldn’t care less about his body’s complaints, though—not when he was laughing this hard. “~Hah, you got spunk, kid!~”

    Soon enough, both of them were laughing, be it at the absurdity of the exchange or at the old man acting silly. “~What’s your name?~” the man asked.

    The change in the atmosphere was almost palpable. It even took the man aback, his brain trying to figure out what had just happened. He could tell the psychic in front of him was left uncomfortable by the question, their body language shrinking and eyes shifting to look down at the floor.

    Right as he was about to ask what was wrong, he felt a sensation as if someone was pushing his attention towards one specific spot, the small plaque beside the doorframe. The one that would’ve normally had the names of all the occupants written on it. Blank.

    “~No name, eh?~” the man chuckled, “~I don’t have one, either.~”

    The admission snapped the Drowzee out of their encroaching funk; sadness suddenly replaced with confusion. “^Really?^”

    “~Yep.~”

    “^But I thought humans had names.^”

    “~I don’t, haven’t had one for a while,~” the man explained. He watched the revelation unfold in the lil’ psychic’s mind, his own following shortly after. A terrifying one that almost sank his heart, the earlier anxieties creeping back in force. The way forward lacked the certainty he was so used to, the certainty he thought he required for the longest time.

    But, as he discovered with every passing day, life only really began with that certainty gone.

    “~We could come up with names for each other, if you’d like.~”

    So he best got used to dealing with its absence.

    “^Y-yeah!^”

    He had a life to make worth living, after all.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
    Last edited:
    • Chapter 19: Retreat

    • Chapter 19: Retreat​


    Despite her own and Aria’s reassurances, Anne couldn’t say she was as confident about meeting the Gardevoir’s husband as she wished she could. Both because meeting new people never came easy to her, and because of the presumed looks of this particular person, as bad as that reason felt to admit that to herself.

    As worried as the human girl was, though, the Braixen was there for her—and that was enough to make even the hardest struggles feel manageable. “^D-don’t worry Anne, Mr. Garret is really nice!^”

    The taller girl nodded subconsciously at the reassurance; a weak shake went through her body as she leaned further into the fox. “~I-I know. I’m... I-I’m worried about how I’ll react, too...~”

    “^I’m sure Mr. Garret will u-understand i-if you’re a bit taken aback,^” Ember reassured.

    “~I-I guess...~” Anne muttered, wishing the exchange had made her feel more confident. What words had failed at, though, a gentle, warm hug was doing a wonderful job of making up for.

    The muffled sounds coming from behind the room’s entrance made Anne grab her bearings and try to steady her breath. Her shaky hand held Ember’s paw close as Aria slid the canvas flap off to the side. First the Gardevoir, and then... the guest of honor.

    With how terrible the lighting was in the room, it was hard to make out more than a handful of details. White fangs, bits of not-black skin on the face, ears, and angled eyes. Beyond them, a bipedal-shaped darkness that actively sucked the surrounding light in, sticking out from the dark brown canvas behind.

    And then the darkness spoke, its voice a harsh, demonic snarl—with a stutter. “G-good evening, Anne.”

    The whiplash between the intimidation of Garret’s voice and the utter meekness of the meaning it conveyed slapped Anne across the face. Parables of deceiving looks were a mainstay in the books she’d read, be it for class or on her own, but this example was so much more stark than anything else she’d ever seen. And really affable while at it. “~G-good evening, Mr. Garret.~”

    “Oh, no need for titles, sweetie. I’ve heard you’ve had a fun day with the kids!” the Dark-type growled from the dark, voice fierce enough to stop Leo in its track, and yet genuinely curious.

    The kind of curious that made Anne fluster a bit. “~Y-yeah. I’ve had a lot of fun, I-I’m really glad they came over.~”

    By then, there was no more risk of Cadence perking up to interject with the Kirlia having finally called it quits for the night, leaning on the vixen’s other side. The sight of both his biological kids and the Gligar under his care snoozing after a long day of playing around brought a wide smile to the Grimmsnarl’s face.

    Unfortunately, what those closest to him saw as a ‘wide smile’ most others just thought of as ‘baring fangs’, and elaboration to convey his happiness was in order. “That’s wonderful~! I see quite a few drawings strewn around, too. Did you guys draw each other?”

    “~M-mostly it was me drawing others...~”

    “^And really really nicely too!^” Ember chimed in, her telepathic comment conveyed to Garret through his wife. It helped little with Anne’s fluster—but what it was very effective at, though, was diffusing even more tension in the room through the form of amused chuckles by anyone but the embarrassed and the asleep.

    “~I-I like to think so...~”

    “I’m sure they’re great, Anne! Mind if I take a look?” Garret asked.

    A direct request spurred the girl to action; the ‘nice’ part of her responded before any of the fears clouding the rest of her could catch up. Within moments, she was sweeping assorted items away from a large patch of the bed immediately beside her to free up space. It was only once she had to say the accompanying line out loud that she realized what she was in for—but by then, her self-consciousness had declared it to be too late. “~Sure, p-please take a seat...~”

    Garret was taken no less off guard by that than Anne, leaving him at an impasse about what to do next. He wasn’t in the position to be asking, but his wife was, thankfully, speaking up directly to Anne with a telepathic whisper, “^Are you sure, Anne? You don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable, he’ll understand.^”

    Was it a good idea to rush it, even with the demon turning out to be incomparably nicer than his looks showed? Probably not. Did Anne feel capable of it?

    By then... yeah.

    Ember was beside her; Mrs. Aria was here; Marco was here; Cadence, Bell, and even Elric were here too, if asleep. Not all of those factors were equally relevant in the moment, but they all helped the human girl with keeping her cool. A couple deeper breaths later, she nodded, squeezing Ember’s paw.

    The Grimmsnarl only barely convinced himself to try, either. He wanted to avoid a bad first impression more than anything else in the world, and rushing was how one ran into those face-first. But... he, too, was willing to give it a shot. His wife was there, and Anne clearly trusted her. Things would be alright. “Okay, Anne. Right here?” he asked.

    “~Mmhm.~”

    Anne had no idea how all the other kids remained asleep after Garret sent ripples through the bed by sitting down, but she wasn’t complaining. Neither was she complaining about the bulky, hairy demon respecting her space, even when sitting beside her. He was making a clear effort to avoid any unwanted touch despite all the hair, managing to swoop the nearest stack of paper with unexpected dexterity.

    All the while, the human girl took Garret’s towering appearance in. His fur was matte black, looking more like a uniform void than individual strands. It was impossible to overstate how massive he was, too, sitting beside her with a broad build and a full head of height on her.

    Before Anne could focus on any more unnerving appearance details, though, he brought the first drawing in front of her, “Oh goodness, that’s lovely! Cadence must’ve liked it a lot!”

    Despite the tension she was trying her hardest to work through, Anne couldn’t help but chuckle out loud. Chuckle, and nod, and sneak a brief glimpse at the sleeping fairy, the action making the latter squirm in her sleep a bit. “~You’ve n-no idea, M... Garret.~”

    In any other situation, the Grimmsnarl wouldn’t have wasted his time before patting the uncertain person on the back and reassuring them. Considering just who this particular person was, though, a more reserved approach was in order. “It’s all okay, sweetie. If you feel more comfortable with a title, use it. I don’t mind either way.”

    Right.

    It was only by the power of utmost self-control that Anne stopped herself from saying ‘sorry’ there and then.

    “^I can i-imagine how giddy she was to see it, hehe...^” Ember chuckled, scanning the page with her one eye, smiling no less than the Dark-type demon did at the sight.

    Anne couldn’t disagree, chuckling with a faint nod, “~Yeah, she r-really was.~”

    As nice as the ongoing discussion was, Anne knew that if it remained on this course, it would eventually steer towards her. A distraction was in order—one that Garret didn’t even need to be asked to provide.

    He reached over further into the bed to pull his kids onto his lap, holding them close with his arm and hair alike. The scene was more adorable than it had any right to be, especially once Bell mumbled in his sleep at having the spot between his horns scritched.

    It also raised some questions by proxy, though, ones that Anne hoped wouldn’t be over the line or anything. “~I-if it’s okay for me to ask... how did you and M-Mrs. Aria meet?~”

    The question perked both halves of the couple up as Marco chuckled. Aria sighed, “^Goodness, it’s been a long time now, hasn’t it?^”

    “It really has, honey. And I enjoyed all of it~.”

    Garret’s flattery had his wife roll her eyes as the two awake girls exchanged quiet giggles and awwws.

    “As to how it began...” the demon continued, “it must be well over ten years ago by now, doesn’t it?”

    “^Let me think—^”

    Before Aria could piece the number together, her brother cut her off, “Thirteen.”

    As glad as she was about being saved from having to count individual years, the somber, low tone with which the Gallade had said it didn’t go unnoticed. Neither was it a surprise, considering just what exactly had led them to join the fledgling village.

    “Thirteen it is then~! I’ve been living here with Autumn for many years by that point,” Garret chuckled.

    “^Oh oh, wh-what did you do then, M-Mr. Garret?^”

    “Same as today, Ember—helped with construction and repair. Gotta put all the strength to a good use after all~! But but but, we’re getting off track. I remember watching Rose escort them both into the village, and I just couldn’t get my eyes off them.”

    Anne was unaware of the name, but followed intently along all the same as the Dark-type continued, “Course, wasn’t about to jump over in the middle of putting up a wall, but I kept looking around. Then, one day, after gathering my courage for a while, I approached Marco and asked if he’d like to have a drink at Viv’s, after he figured out how to link to me.”

    “Wait, you did?” Marco asked, surprised.

    The Gallade’s genuine confusion dispelled some of his earlier gloom as Garret had to focus on keeping his roaring laughter in to not wake the rest of the clinic up. Or, at least, hold as much of it in as he could. “Yes I did, Marco! Do you really not remember?”

    “I...” Marco started, cut off by a pang of grief. He banished it soon after with a deep inhale, switching to telepathy to maintain composure. “^I don’t recall much from that time. What’d I say?^”

    Garret chuckled, “Well~ you were entirely oblivious and said you didn’t have the time.”

    Another, more controlled wave of laugher, the Gallade left rolling his eyes as he sat on the floor.

    “^Romance just slides off you, it seems,^” Aria joked.

    Marco couldn’t disagree with his sister’s comment. He didn’t agree with it either; the words plunging him into much more thought than was intended. The resulting silence left the rest of the room uncertain as Aria walked over to him, just in case. Movement this close up finally stirred him out of his confusion, leaving him sighing as he slowly picked himself up onto his feet. “^You’re... not wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever felt these sorts of emotions, towards anyone. I’ve no idea how they even feel like, really.^”

    Before the Gallade could elaborate any further, he found himself pulled into a tight hug by his sister. As awkward as their spacing was by necessity, with their horns ending up pressed to the side of the other’s torsos, it didn’t make the result any less genuine—or appreciated by the recipient. “^Nothing wrong with that, bro.^”

    Marco reassured, “^I know, I know, I know, it’s... guess I just really never thought of it like that before.^”

    “I hope putting it that way helps then, Marco,” Garret smiled.

    “^It...^” As the Gallade quickly went through his memories for more fodder towards the building realization, one very recent event stuck out to him. One that sounded like a repeat of what Garret had described. It even involved a fairy, too. Something to ponder on later, in any case. “^...it really does. Thanks, Aria.^”

    “^Anytime, Marco.^”

    “Anyway~! I can’t say I wasn’t discouraged after that, but I tried not to let it get to me. I remember walking through the streets, looking for the other recent arrival, worrying about how I’d come off. And then, I finally spotted Aria. I believe you were talking with Holly when it happened, honey?”

    “^Sounds about right.^”

    “So~! I gathered my bearings, took a deep breath, put on a bit of Swagger—”

    “^So that’s why you tripped on thin air!^” Aria giggled.

    “Honey!”

    Laughter once more, Anne in particular had to keep her tired noises from growing too loud at the mental image. Something that Ember failed at, holding her friend tighter with each raspy, howly sound. Despite being put on the spot, Garret took it in stride, joining in on the amusement. “Yes, yes, I tripped and fell in front of you two and made a scene, ha. You helped me up, Holly brought us some drinks, we got to chatting. And the rest is history.”

    The last sentence was quieter and warmer; accompanied by the demon dad holding his kids closer to him, tiny tendrils of hair stroking their cheeks. As sweet as the situation was, the accompanying peace making Anne slump in her spot more and more, there remained some unexplained parts. Ones that Ember in particular wanted a further glimpse of. “^Awwww. Oh, Mrs. Aria, wh-where did you and Mr. M-Marco come from?^”

    Despite the innocence of the question, the psychic vixen felt the air in the room grow colder at her words. Not directly at her, not by a long shot. Instead, at the unspoken part of the story being brought to light, one that not even Garret knew more than an outline of. Ember was of half a mind to speak up again just to reassure the siblings that they didn’t have to go into it, but by then, Aria answered, “^We... we were raised in a tiny commune, rather far from here. It was our and a couple other psychic families sharing a burrow, and not much beyond that.^”

    The answer accounted for ‘where’, but not for the much more important ‘why’. Aria was well aware of that, holding the Gallade closer as she fought to figure out how much of the truth to convey. And, ever more importantly, how much of it her brother wanted to convey. Ultimately, the course of action was obvious—just let Marco explain as much as he’s comfortable with.

    “^As to why we left…^” he sighed. “^Our—our parents were... rather strict. They...^”

    Not a single sound filled the small room as the Gallade gathered his words. His eyelids were trying their hardest to get rid of any building moisture, succeeding only partially.

    “^They loved us in their own way. They had a very... specific idea for what we should do and be in our lives. Regardless of what we actually wanted. And if we disagreed...^” he looked at his arm, at how differently it looked from that of his sister. “^They would force their vision upon us anyway.^”

    “^Most of it was tiny things,^” Aria explained. “^Until, one night, they went too far, much too far. When Marco realized what they’d done in the morning, I grabbed provisions and left with him on the spot. Our journey was long and very difficult at times, but eventually, we made our way here.^”

    The trek itself was little more than a traumatic blur in both siblings’ minds. Struggle for survival, wrestling with a new body, having no idea if there even was safety at the end of their invisible path. A kind of hell neither of them would ever wish on anyone else.

    The vagueness of their description left a part of Ember curious to ask more. The rest of the vixen, though, knew better than to investigate into such a clearly loaded topic, leaning to hold Anne closer instead. And realizing that the human girl was already halfway asleep, and had been resting against the Grimmsnarl for an unspecified amount of time.

    As heavy as the siblings’ recollection was, the unexpected sight of the skittish girl leaning on the massive Dark-type was no less appreciated as the result, triply so once the psychics had noticed it. Aria and Marco alike had to hold in chuckles at the sight as the former approached with a smile on her face. Garret didn’t dare move throughout, simultaneously amused and taken aback, worrying about startling the human once she realized her position.

    Aria whispered, “^Anne?^”

    “~Mmmmmmhhhhhmmm...~” Anne mumbled, slowly prying her eyes open—only for them to snap all the way there once she’d realized what she was resting again. She had no idea how to respond, stiffening as she leaned on the Grimmsnarl, hoping futilely that he hadn’t noticed her.

    Nothing that Aria’s gentle pet on the cheek couldn’t fix, especially when accompanied by another psychic whisper, “^Don’t worry sweetie, Garret doesn’t mind~. Are you okay?^”

    Anne whispered, “~I... I’m really tired, I think...~” as her body slowly unclenched. She truly hoped she hadn’t made the Grimmsnarl uncomfortable. In part because goodness did this feel nice. She expected the demon’s fur to be oily and unpleasant to the touch. Instead, it was dry, well kept, and not even that rough, though still a far cry from how soft Ember was. It felt right; it felt safe; it felt... like a dad should feel.

    As insightful and yet scary as that thought was, neither Aria nor Anne had the time to think about it more—especially with the night security showing up. “Gooooood evening there, darlings. How’s everyone holding up?” Sprout whistled, glancing around the room. Lovely sights all around, just as she’d expected, especially with all the sleeping and only-barely-not-sleeping kids.

    “^Very, very ready to get some rest,^” Aria mumbled.

    “Ha, that much I can tell, hun. How’s Anne doing?”

    “~I’m sleepy.~”

    The Decidueye didn’t expect to hear the girl’s voice—it was the most enjoyable of surprises, though. Her beak twisted into the closest thing to a smile it was capable of as she scooted over towards the human girl, even giving her a small wave with it. “Hello, Anne dear! I’m Sprout, and I’ll be watching over you tonight, just in case. It’s lovely to meet you, sweetie!”

    Anne took a hot minute to figure out what she was supposed to do with Sprout’s outstretched wing. Exhaustion didn’t help, and neither did the apprehension accompanied by having a Decidueye watch over her. As lovely as Blossom had been earlier, the jump in both size and lethality from a Dartrix to a Decidueye was... immense. She knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about things like these, not with how kind the mons all around were, but her tired mind had other ideas.

    Sprout was no psychic, but her hearing was good enough to make up for that fact—at least, to an extent. In most contexts, someone’s heart rate going up had too many possible reasons to ascribe a concrete one to it. Here, though... it wasn’t exactly difficult to piece together the connection between Anne spotting her and exhibiting all the different aspects of a stress response. Especially with the owl’s body being attuned to sensing them. Whether the owl herself wanted it to or not.

    Anne wasn’t about to not try harder herself, though. Her breath shook as she sat up straight and gave Sprout a small wave. Pushing through the fog of tiredness took effort she could only barely muster, but someone being nice enough to look after her deserved it. “~H-hello, Mrs. Sprout. Th-th-thank you for looking after me...~”

    As hard as she tried to hold her composure, she wasn’t exactly doing a good job at it. She supposed it only made sense to apologize for that, “~I-I’m sorry—~”

    “Shhhhhhhh,” the Decidueye shushed, accompanying the half-whistled sound with the world’s swiftest hug. Anne hadn’t even realized what had happened until she blinked, only to find her face pressing itself into the owl’s leafy shoulder, with the rest of her body surrounded by the softest plumage she’d ever felt.

    She was too tired to even get startled, auto-piloting to an exhausted nod.

    “It’s all good, sweetie,” Sprout comforted. “Blossom had mentioned you gettin’ a tad scared when she flew in, sorry for giving you another scare. I promise I’m not as scary as I look, ha!”

    The owl’s frankness helped melt through much of Anne’s worries as her bed was being emptied around her. By the time the Decidueye had let go, the human girl had found herself alone on the bedding. All the assorted drawings and drawing tools had been moved to the nightstand; Elric had joined the rest of his denmates in Garret’s arms; and the lil’ fiery vixen was standing beside Aria, waving over at her best friend.

    Aria smiled, “^It’s high time for us to head home, Anne. I’ll come to check up on you tomorrow.^”

    “^M-me too! I’ll come over a-as early as I can, I promise!^” Ember woofed.

    Despite the chaos of the past couple of days, despite all the unknowns that persisted... Anne felt safe. So much safer than she thought she ever would. “~G-good night!~”

    The feeling persisted even once everyone but the Decidueye had left. Sprout extinguished the last of the Will-o’-Wisps with an offhand wing gesture, the message very clear. A smile remained glued on Anne’s face as she laid down and got comfortable under the rough covers. Preparing to rest in a village full of feral mons, so far away from what used to be her home.

    The two red pinpricks she saw in the room’s corner didn’t help at first. Once they’d hopped over and carefully pet her forehead with a couple of very soft, mobile feathers, though, Anne suddenly found it much harder to be genuinely afraid of them. She was safe; she was cared for. Aria was looking after her.

    Nothing would ever go wrong again.

    Ember quickly split up to head to her mom’s den following the group’s departure, leaving just the three awake adults to make their way through the village’s mostly asleep streets. The occasional Dark and Ghost-types passed their greetings now and again. For the most part, though, their journey was uneventful and in almost complete silence, the adults no less immune to the ever creeping exhaustion than the human girl they’d just left.

    It was only after a good few minutes that the first words were finally exchanged—or rather, bodily sounds, specifically those of Aria’s stomach rumbling. “Really hope we have something to eat at home,” she commented.

    “When I left, mom was preparing something for us to have once we get back,” Garret reassured.

    “Oh good. Today was a lot, and the last thing I need is to go to bed hungry...”

    Before Aria’s words could linger in the air for too long, the Gardevoir found herself getting swept off the ground and held close in her husband’s arm, adding to his tally of all the other smaller creatures he was carrying. “You’ve been doing great, honey. I believe in you, and so does Anne~.”

    “I know, I know. Just—”

    “Marcoooo~!” the squeaky, floaty voice stopped the tired band mid-step as they all turned to face its source. Neither of them were expecting to see the Wigglytuff so late into the evening, and especially not with clear signs of inebriation, but Jovan was hopping over towards them all the same.

    Aria greeted him, dumbstruck, “Good evening, Jovan.”

    “Hello, hello Aria, Garret~. Care for a chat, Marcooo~?”

    The Fairy-type’s voice was somehow even flirtier than usual, the significance lost upon its intended recipient. Again. The Gallade might’ve overlooked the tone, but following his internal realization earlier at the clinic, he was starting to suspect the purpose of Jovan’s occasional chats.

    And as unpleasant as it all would inevitably be, he knew he should come clear about how he felt. “I—s-sure, Jovan. Did something happen?”

    “Oh, hardly~. I was just thinking about whether you’d want to swing by Viv’s place tomorrow? Together~?”

    The Gallade had lost count of all the times the Wigglytuff had asked him a question in that vein. If what he was suspecting was true, if Jovan’s questions weren’t for the purpose of just looking for platonic company... then a clarification was long overdue. He spoke, “J-Jovan, I... I have to come clear with something—”

    “You’re straight~?”

    “What—no, no, of course not. It’s—it’s more like I’m... neither. I didn’t even realize you were trying to ask me out in that way...”

    Aria was about to roll her eyes at her brother, not noticing it for so long... but at the same time, it’s not like Jovan’s thoughts were straightforward, either. They kept shifting around in a confusing, hard to follow way, almost like the fairy was making it deliberately difficult to pick up on his motives. What went under his brain might’ve been trickier to piece together than it should’ve been, but how he felt about Marco’s confession was very clear to sense. Utter, immense,

    Relief.

    “Oh, thank goodness~! I was so worried you’d been playing hard to get all along and that I was just messing everything up~!”

    Garret chuckled, “And here I am, taking a clue after my first case of cold shoulder...”

    His wife giggling as his brother-in-law rolled his eyes. Jovan, however, immediately tried to explain himself. “He wasn’t saying ‘no’ or anything! Neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’, hardly a sign either way with such an obvious approach. I thought I just had to try harder!”

    “And then you just... kept going?” Marco asked, stopping the Wigglytuff in his tracks.

    The blush that sprouted on his lavender cheeks might not have been visible in the dark, but his embarrassment was clear to hear all the same. “...you look good, you know~?”

    On a cue, the fluster ball was passed from the balloon to the knight, the latter left just as stunned as the former was moments prior. “Um, I—”

    ‘Good’ was the absolute last word Marco would’ve ever used to describe his appearance. ‘Misshapen’ and ‘incorrect’, sure, but definitely not ‘good’. The sheer mismatch between that perception and how he felt about his looks inside was a bountiful pile of fuel for self-loathing, ready to be ignited to take its carrier down with it.

    Thankfully, Marco was too exhausted to be playing with mental matches, skipping straight to the most banal of answers, “Thanks, Jovan.”

    “You’re welcome, Marco~. Seems I’ll have to look around some more. Well, suppose with that over, we’d all rather get some snooze time than stand out in the cold for any longer. Sleep well, you all~. And especially you, Marco!”

    “Worst case, you can always try tripping in front of someone to catch their attention!”

    Jovan didn’t get the reference in Garret’s joke, but laughed together with the rest of the group all the same.

    “Sounds painful~. Guess it’s just what one has to do to get a date nowadays, ha! In any case, goodnight~,” the Wigglytuff waved as he bounced off into the distance.

    “Goodnight, Jovan,” Aria sighed.

    “Good luck on your search!”

    “T-take care, Jovan.”

    With the fairy hopping away, the amused mood could spread throughout the gathering, sending them into brief bursts of giggling from time to time. At imagining Jovan’s past antics, at imagining Marco’s stone faced responses, and in the Gallade’s case, at not piecing it all together sooner, both about the Wigglytuff and himself. Guess having a hard time even conceptualizing oneself without all sorts of mental sludge creeping up would do that to him, but it was still amusing to think about.

    It’d help going forward, that’s for sure.

    By the time the last of the trio had finished chuckling to themselves, the group was already home, making their way down the burrow’s stairs to a company of nourishing aromas and oh-so-welcome warmth.

    “There you all are! I was of half a mind to march over there myself,” Autumn greeted, her voice only avoiding the exhaustion that had claimed everyone else by the virtue of having other things to be giddy about. Her dating life was a distant second thought in the moment, though, doubly so with her family cold and hungry.

    As Garret and Aria laid their kids and Elric to bed, Marco helped his mom-in-law with pouring hearty portions of stew for the entire family. It was too late and too cold outside to be worrying about setting up a table, especially since a large, shared blanket for them all to huddle under would work just as well, if not even better.

    Moments later, they were all seated and making their way through their portion. The warmth sure didn’t help any with tiredness, but now that the family finally had a moment to get each other up to speed about what was happening to and around Anne, rest was the last thing on their mind.

    “^How’d explaining humans to the little ones go, mom?^” Aria asked.

    The Indeedee stretched in her seat as she went through the events of the day in her head. Some of them were much more pleasant than others, but those weren’t the most important ones. Those came much earlier. Not perfectly good, but hardly bad, either. “Overall? Quite well. I risked a bit with dragging Geiger in to help, but thankfully, he knew exactly what to say. Stressed about how humans aren’t different from us individually and many are good people, even if their world at large remains dangerous.”

    Garret asked, surprised. “And all the little ones went along with it?”

    His mom shook her head and elaborated, “I wish. I’d say most of them were ambivalent. After all, Anne would just be another kid joining them in the end. As good of an attitude as I can expect from most. There were quite a few kids eager to help and curious, thankfully.”

    “^Like Blossom?^”

    “She too, but also Zephyr, Grace, Mint, even Lyn, some others. There were one or two kids that were rather openly antagonistic too, sadly, Hawthorne the worst of them.”

    Considering the abuse the Espurr’s parent had endured from humanity, it really was no surprise to see her opposing Anne this vocally. It wasn’t like Hawthorne’s hostility made no sense, but at the same time... her parent didn’t act like this. He was the one who had actually suffered, and yet, Autumn couldn’t ever remember the Meowstic remarking about humans at all, in a hostile way or not.

    Despite the cruelty they had inflicted upon him being very clear to see.

    “^That makes sense. Aiming to convince everyone is no less foolish amongst the kids than it is among the adults. Though,^” the Gardevoir paused mid sentence, not liking the difficulty of the task she was thinking of in the slightest. “^Someone talking with Max about all of this would be a good idea. Just so that once the vote comes, he won’t be the immediate example for those opposing Anne staying here to point to—^”

    “Vote?” Garret asked, confused, sending an agonized wince through the rest of the family. It was inarguably the right choice to take a moment and make sure everyone’s on the same page, but sadly, it also meant recounting the cruelty of those who should’ve known better.

    Again.

    “^That’s... one of the topics I meant when I mentioned things being wrong. The Elders had decided to put Anne’s ultimate fate to a vote amongst the scouts.^”

    A glance over at the Grimmsnarl revealed his aghast expression at the news. He almost dropped his bowl as he stared at his wife, her solemn nod acting as all the confirmation he could ever need. “How could they!?” he asked.

    “^I-I wish I knew, Garret...^”

    The sadness in Aria’s voice petered out any anger in the Dark-type before it could build upon itself; the tension released with a weary sigh. Whether he liked it or not, and he most definitely hated it, this was what they had to deal with. And with that in mind, it only made sense to catch up on how the vote was looking in the present. “I-I see. How do you think it’s looking, honey?”

    “^It’s very up in the air. Thirteen votes in total, we need seven. Me, Marco, Rose, Sprout, and Cypress are certain to vote in Anne’s favor. At the same time, Winnie is absolutely voting against, and so is Lumi. I haven’t had a chance to talk about this with Lucere, but I’m suspecting a similar attitude. Same with Ana. Bloody, senile Torkoal...^”

    Aria caught herself before she could wind herself up any further. She took a deep breath, another spoonful of stew, and continued, “^It leaves Celia, Lariat, Ori, and Ruby. The last time I spoke with the latter two was before we talked to the Elders. I remember Ori feeling very hesitant about it all, but not hostile or anything. Ruby spoke up with myself and Sprout at our meeting, but that’s hardly a confirmation of intent, either. Celia... I have no idea. She’s the one who’d delayed the vote, which makes me think she’ll be against, too.^”

    “^Terribly hypocritical of her if that’s the case...^” Autumn grumbled, only barely keeping her anger contained. She was there when the Primarina had joined their village, in circumstances not too different from Anne’s. To think she’d turn around and spit in an innocent’s face like that...

    As angry as the Indeedee was getting about it, though, the sheer nonsensicalness of it all cut her short. It would’ve been so unlike Celia to act this way; this made no sense. Then again, no earlier situation had ever concerned a human. And if there was anyone in the village with a very good reason to loathe every single part of humanity with all her heart, it was also the Primarina.

    This mess was making demons of them all.

    “^I know, but it’s true.^” Aria sighed. “^That just leaves Lariat. Haven’t spoken with him either.^”

    “^I have, and... it really, really wasn’t pretty. It felt like I couldn’t get to him at all about Anne’s situation being so much more similar to ours than of any other human. He’ll almost certainly vote against,^” Autumn explained.

    “^That makes six.^” Aria summed up, her words grim in their implications. Her arms shook as she tried to continue calming herself down with a meal, to no avail. Why were people she knew and respected deciding to be this cruel to someone so defenseless? “^I’ll get up early and speak with Ruby in the morning. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay for long enough to discuss this with Ori.^”

    Autumn reassured, “^Don’t worry Aria, Geiger assured me he’ll talk to Ori and Lumi tomorrow.^”

    As feasible as it felt for the Scizor to be swayed, the Luxray was a whole separate matter. At this point, probably not even whichever deities were watching high above them could get through to the lion’s skull. Why would another Electric-type do any better?

    “^Th-that’s good, the Ori part. Talking to Lumi is a waste of time, but Geiger knows him better.^”

    “And so do I. I can’t do much, still, but I can at least try to chat with him,” Marco chimed in, catching the attention of the rest of the family, his portion long finished.

    Aria responded, “^I’d say trying to talk to Ana and Celia would be a better use of your time, but I’m unsure how much you’ve talked to them in the past.^”

    “With Celia? Not at all, only a few words with Ana. I don’t know, sis, I feel like I’ll have more luck with Lumi.”

    “^Y-yeah, I suppose. It’s just—^”

    Garret’s hug cut Aria off before she could finish her sentence. The sudden, full body warmth was soothing beyond words, especially once further enhanced by the most intricate massage in the world. “You’re trying your best, honey. We can do this together. I’m sure of it.”

    “^I wish I was.^”

    “Me too honey, me too.”

    The Gardevoir chuckled at the impromptu exchange. Her mind was a maelstrom of everything that could go wrong, everyone they had to talk to and try to convince not to murder an innocent by proxy. She wasn’t alone, she knew it at a rational level, but... a part of her still felt hopelessness creeping in, moment by moment.

    “On my end, I can visit Max and discuss it with him. I will have the time tomorrow,” Garret suggested. “Aside from that, I’ll be on the lookout for any passing Elders to go over it all with them.”

    “^Garret, you’re wonderful, but I doubt any force could ever sway Winnie, even your looks and charm.^”

    “If not him, then Ana and Celia, ha!”

    The Breloom was out of consideration for being convinced, and everyone gathered knew that. The Primarina had her own master plan of some sort, and the Torkoal... wouldn’t let her opinion show, not even when talking to a psychic.

    “^Won’t hurt to try. Thanks, honey.^”

    “^No lessons tomorrow, and if I have the time, I’ll bring it all to Celia and see what she thinks. If need be, I’ll stay with Anne, though. It’d help a lot if you could watch over Anne again, Marco,^” Autumn suggested.

    The Gallade sighed at the reasonable request. Out of the two of them, his mom-in-law was both much better at talking and knew much more about most faces around the village, especially the older ones. It only made sense for him to be delegated to the least difficult duty considering his current state, but… sigh. This was not the time for him to be moping, not with Anne’s wellbeing on the line. “Will do, mom.”

    As the Indeedee patted her son-in-law on the back, Aria churned through everything she could do to help tomorrow. Ruby, Ori, maybe Lucere too. The Weavile was most likely to agree; it would just take catching her in the early morning and going through it all. She was many things, but honest and direct were chief among them. The Scizor was a tricky case, and Geiger was probably the one better suited to actually changing him. Still, she’d be remiss not to at least probe what his current thoughts were.

    The Altaria... would take some getting used to.

    Most of what Aria knew of her revolved around what she’d heard whispered about where she came from, about how her own flock had banished her over an innate difference of some sort. She’d have to work out more of the specifics to see if she could use that to appeal to her judgment. Aside from that tidbit, the few times Aria had listened to what Lucere had said about humans, distrust was chief amongst what she felt.

    Whether it was the deeper, unyielding sort was something for her to figure out tomorrow.

    “^All that aside, Aria, any news regarding what happened to Cinder—^”

    knock-knock-knockknockknock!

    The chaotic, uneven banging at the front door cut the Indeedee off as it plunged the burrow into silence. The three psychics quickly realized just who it was standing outside in utter despair, but only one of them knew the probable reason. Without saying another word and to the tune of the constant barrage of bangs and knocks, Aria got up and turned towards the stairs.

    Her body shook with each step, but she pushed on; she had to push on. The implications her mind was all too happily feeding her were plunging her soul into despair, but that could wait until later. Right now,

    croak!

    Ember needed her help.

    “H-h-how could she have d-done that to me!?” the vixen howled, weeping into Aria’s front. The Gardevoir held her tight even as her entire body shook, “I-I just wanted Anne to be safe and—”

    Ember couldn’t even finish her sentence before her piercing sobs filled the burrow. Autumn took care of the noise with a Safeguard, but it was up to Aria to help the despairing fox, green arms holding her close. She wished she knew what to do in response, how to soothe someone carrying so much justified pain. She had no answers, but what she had was comfort.

    “Sh-she took my memories a-a-and she took Anne and—sob” the Braixen continued, the gentle psychic embrace helping her, if only slightly. Without saying a word, Aria gently led her down the stairs, until she was sitting beside the rest of her family in front of the calm fireplace. “I-I thought she loved me a-and she doesn’t and she did that to me—”

    “^Shhhhhhhhhhh.^”

    Aria’s quiet, gentle hush was paired with her physical hand stroking Ember’s head, adding to the warmth even further. There wasn’t a spell for this kind of pain, not one that wouldn’t merely delay it until its discovery. There was only the slow way forward, one of comfort, reassurance, and, most importantly, listening.

    Ember’s wails continued for a few minutes afterwards as Autumn scrambled over to her other side, joining in with her own affection. She was no less frightened at the fox’s state than the rest of the family, but with Aria being ready to talk through it all with the fox, her trying to chime in would only make things worse. Eventually, the worst of her painful howls ended, leaving only sobs, sorrow, and betrayal.

    A few minutes later, the same words, but now meant as a question and not an outlet of pain, “Wh-why did she do that to me...?”

    Aria thought back to her stern discussion with the Delphox. Despite how thorough it was, it was ultimately useless for the painful fox beside her. What was she to say, that the fox’s mom was a coward? Even if true, it wouldn’t help in the slightest, and was only part of the picture by itself. Aria loathed to excuse Cinder’s behavior, but what she could do was contextualize it enough to let Ember come to her own conclusion. “^Because you were hurting, and she didn’t know what to do. She hurt you because she didn’t want you to suffer. What she did was horrible and wrong, but it was not without a reason to it.^”

    Ember’s body shook as she chewed through the Gardevoir’s words. The storm inside her head kept shifting between pain, uncertainty, and anger; neither end strong enough to overpower the other two. “B-but I love Anne, a-and I loved her then too. I-I just wanted her to be safe!”

    “^Back then, Cinder thought it impossible to convince the Elders that it was possible for Anne to stay, and wanted to spare you from suffering at living without her. What she did was horrific and violating, but it was in the name of love, if misguided and harmful.^”

    The Braixen sniffed and sobbed as she chewed through Aria’s words. She wanted them to be true; she didn’t want her mom to have been hating her all along; she still loved her mom. But it all hurt, it all hurt so much, thinking about all the days she spent without the hope that Anne had represented in her life. All the fears, all the loneliness. All the pain that her best friend had gone through while she wasn’t even aware of her existence. “D-does she hate Anne?”

    Aria winced at Ember’s words, at her own uncertainty about their answer. What she’d sensed earlier today was one thing, but it wouldn’t remain so for long. Ultimately, the Gardevoir didn’t know—and it was only right of her to admit to that.

    “^I don’t know, sweetie. Even if she did, even if she does... I think with how clear your love for Anne is, your mom can change. Despite what she’d done, Cinder loves you, I’m sure of that. That doesn’t mean you have to go back to her, or even forgive her, but it’s important to keep in mind.^”

    “I-I-I love her too, b-but,” Ember began, before her words gave way to weeping once more. Aria and Autumn held her close, letting her get all the despair out of her system. It didn’t take nearly as long this time, thankfully; sobbing wails soon returned to sniffing, tearful breaths.

    “^I’m sorry, Ember,^” Aria whispered. “^I wish all this hadn’t happened to you and Anne. Nobody but your mom and Elder Ana knew.^”

    Ember nodded weakly, trying and largely failing to steady her breathing. “W-will she hate me?”

    “^No, no, she won’t, sweetie. She knows she had done something evil, and will turn herself in for the Elders to decide on her punishment tomorrow.^”

    “I-I don’t want her t-to be hurt! I-I just want Anne to b-be safe, a-and mom to like Anne too...”

    “^I doubt they’ll hurt her. It’s Cinder herself that wants to see consequences for what she’d done.^”

    “I-I... I just want her to, to—” Ember whined, reeling at a desire words couldn’t hope to express in full. ‘Apologize’ didn’t go far enough; that word was for accidents and petty grudges, not for what her mom had done. Something larger than mere apology, something to soothe the wound left in both her own soul and indirectly in Anne’s. Something that the vixen had no idea how to name, but needed all the same.

    Something that would let the three of them eventually move on. Swaddled in words or not, the desire was perfectly clear to the Gardevoir. Whether it was attainable was another question, one Aria again didn’t have an answer to there and then. “^I think it will happen with time, sweetie. Until then, feel free to stay here, at our burrow, for as long as you need.^”

    Ember muttered, exhausted, “Th-thank you, Mrs. Aria...” Right as she had begun to get over the worst of her despair, though, a different concern struck her, “Wh-what about Anne? I-is she really safe?”

    Deep breaths Aria, deep breaths.

    “^Safe with certainty... sadly no. Us scouts and the Elders will hold a vote on what will happen to her tomorrow evening.^”

    The danger loomed over her best friend rekindled Ember’s pain. Her frail, exhausted body clung to Aria’s as hard as it could as hot tears wetted more and more of her fur. “B-but she h-hadn’t done anything wrong! I-I just want her to be safe! I-I don’t want her to leave, I don’t want to leave, I-I—”

    Aria redoubled her embrace and psychic affection. She breathed as deeply as she could, holding the vixen close until their breaths synchronized. “^Everyone here and plenty of others in the village are doing all we can to make sure that Anne will get to stay. I don’t have certainty, but we’re trying as hard as possible and have rather good hopes.^”

    The honest answer helped Ember avoid falling into further hopelessness as her trust refocused on Aria. Amidst all the chaos, amidst her own mom having hurt her in such an unspeakable way, the Gardevoir felt like someone she could still trust and find reassurance in. Moment by moment, the worst of her despair finally began to subside out as her tears eased out, immense exhaustion creeping in to replace them both.

    Ember hurt.

    Her mom had hurt her, the village had hurt her, both of them had hurt Anne, too. But... she still loved the former. She trusted the former to still love her. It’d take a while for her to really forgive her mom, but it no longer felt impossible, now that she knew why. And with Anne’s situation, she believed Aria’s reassurance; her hope of being able to live with Anne together forever blooming again after being nearly extinguished entirely. “Th-thank you, Mrs. A-Aria—yaaaaawn”

    “^You’re welcome, sweetie.^”

    “^Would you mind sleeping next to me, darling? Just to make sure Bell and Cadence won’t wake up,^” Autumn suggested. The Braixen didn’t have to be asked twice, nodding right away at her words. She took a long, shaky while standing back up afterwards, the Indeedee holding her close as she guided her to a small bedding. Soon enough, the last of Ember’s energy soon gave out; the fox left utterly drained by all the triumph and despair of the day.

    The rest of the burrow soon followed.

    The dinner was finished in silence, the fireplace extinguished, and everyone nestled in for the night. The uncertainty of Anne’s situation, combined with the gloom of what Ember had been through, hung heavy over them all. They needed sleep more than ever, and that alone made it all the harder to obtain.

    The Gardevoir took by far the longest to finally give into rest, mind in constant overdrive. The list of tasks for tomorrow had gained another horrifying bullet point. One she feared the most about being able to accomplish.

    Cinder had admitted to her lies.

    Now, it was Aria’s turn.​


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 20: Misery

    • Chapter 20: Misery​


    CONTENT WARNING: Gore, Graphic Depictions of Violence

    “Ayyy, morning Aria! How’d the night treat ya?” Sprout chirped. Her voice filled the dimly lit clinic room as its only other occupant perked up at the sound.

    “^It went... splendid,^” the Gardevoir answered, staring straight at the Decidueye.

    “~Good morning Mrs. Aria!~” Anne smiled as she discarded the notebook full of scribbles, one functional arm waving as well as it could.

    “^Anne.^”

    The single word sent an icy dread down the girl’s body, sounding completely unlike what she’d known of the Gardevoir. Before she could speak up and ask about what was wrong, she saw Aria slowly turn her head towards her.

    Her empty eye sockets were enveloped in a fierce crimson glow.

    Anne’s breath was choked out of her lungs as a psychic force she couldn’t comprehend, let alone fight, pinned her to the bed. She wanted to scream as her joints were being forcefully pushed way outside of their range; each crack and excruciating jolt from inside her body forcefully silenced.

    “^I’ve humored you for far too long. Fortunately, I don’t have to do so anymore. Soon enough, you’ll be out of here, and everything will go back to how it was before.^”

    The words hurt even more intensely than her mangled body, every single dagger of a word stabbing deep inside her mind.

    “^Did you seriously think you were safe here? That you could ever be safe here? You’re a filthy nuisance, Anne, and us granting you as much mercy as we have is a mistake on our part.^”

    Sprout watched idly from the corner, a forced smile splitting her head wide open.

    “^Nobody here ever cared for you. Not me, not Marco, not any of my children. Cadence hates you and would love to do every single thing you were afraid of her doing, and Elric...^” Aria continued, bloody expression twisting into a mockery of a smile. “^If he sees you again, he won’t hesitate using that stinger of his, again and again.^”

    Bones snapped with a squelching sound, Anne only conscious through the sheer force of Aria’s will as her mind was being violated and cleaved apart, every single source of happiness surgically removed.

    “^Ember never loved you. She will forget about you, and she’ll be so much happier for it.^”

    Crimson light flooded the room, filling it up to the Gardevoir’s ankles.

    “^But no need to worry, you loathsome thing. After all...^” Aria’s face cleaved open into thirteen maws of razor-sharp teeth, what remained of her flesh hanging limply underneath them.

    “^YOU’LL DIE FOR THE GREATER GOOD, AND YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR THAT.^”

    A tight embrace snapped Aria out of her screams, the hellish vision dissolving immediately.

    Her throat was raw, her body wracked with tremors. She had no idea what had just happened or how, her consciousness full of images of nigh-incomprehensible suffering she just watched herself inflict without being able to stop it. With each passing moment, though, another sensation took up more and more of the space left behind by her nightmare, one so much more familiar. So much more comforting.

    “Aria, honey, what happened!?” Garret asked, more alarmed than she’d ever heard him be. She knew how he sounded when he shook in uncertainty or anxiety, but this wasn’t like either of those. This was terror, the kind still clinging to the wrinkles of her mind despite her attempts to shake them off.

    “G-Garret, I—”

    Taking in a breath after what felt like ages let Aria realize her entire body was being surrounded in her husband’s fur, the sensation even more needed than usual. She was the village’s protector, but he was her protector. And here, beside him, the Gardevoir finally felt capable of processing what the hell she had just seen.

    And she could only weep.

    It wasn’t a reassuring sight, not in the slightest. Still, Garret had a decent enough idea of what to do in this worst-case situation. As gently as he could, he sat up while holding his wife close to him the entire time; the individual hairs shifted her around until she was on his lap, leaning into him. Trembling like she never did. “I’m here, honey, I’m here. Take your time.”

    And her time Aria most definitely took.

    The vicious gore she’d seen would’ve already cost her hours, if not days, of sleep on its own—being forced to watch her own body inflict all of it made the nightmare incomparably more harrowing. Despite being firmly awake now, she wanted to scream; she wanted to vomit, run, thrash, anything but to not have to be stuck with it any longer.

    An attempt to reach in and cauterize the site of the vision in her own mind was doomed to fail, if not worse. Calm Mind was an option, the right option for being capable of getting up and being productive, but... not yet. Not now. She knew all too well that it wasn’t just a cheap fright, the kinds of which the kids’ minds would often set upon them. This came from somewhere deeper, much deeper, and was ever more potent because of that.

    Every single gory detail was infeasible, of course, but the rough strokes? Her being forced to incapacitate Anne in order to steal her memory of this place and sentence her to a hellish, uncertain life back in the human world with nobody to care for her? Having to separate her and Ember again, to the latter’s indescribable anguish? All that was real. Could be real.

    And Aria felt powerless to stop it.

    “Honey?” Garret growled quietly, nudging Aria out of her quickly panicking train of thought and back into his arms; a shake of her head acknowledged his voice. “Do you need more time or to talk to me about something?”

    The former wouldn’t help, the latter... could. The Gardevoir was still immensely unsure, both about sharing what she’d seen and talking about the underlying concerns. Of the two, though, airing all the roiling uncertainty would do her much more good. “I-I think I do, yes. It’s... it’s about Anne.”

    “O-oh? Did something happen to her—”

    “No, no... not yet, at least,” she explained, breathless. The Grimmsnarl didn’t respond, the obvious hole where words should’ve been conveying his confusion. Aria continued, “Remember when I mentioned the council voting on her fate?”

    “Yes, yes I do. Dreadful matter all in all, but I believe in you—”

    “It’s not even about the outcome, it’s... about me having lied to Anne.”

    Aria felt herself shift in Garret’s embrace, her head tilted upwards to look him in the eyes. Or at least, the very little that was visible of them. He asked, “Lied about what? I don’t remember anything like that while we were chatting with her yesterday.”

    “It’s from earlier, about her being safe here. Safe and sound, with a certainty that she’d be staying here for good.”

    The dilemma took a few moments to click together in Garret’s head. In an instant, his expression faltered into one of dread, eyes going as wide as it was anatomically possible for them to. “While in reality that’s nowhere near decided?”

    Aria flinched, huddling up tighter as she held her husband tight, as if she’d been scolded. “Y-yes. Anne thinks she’s safe for good and forever, and I have no idea what to say. She doesn’t deserve to have to deal with the dreadful possibility of her getting forced out because of something she can’t control; to feel like her and Ember’s safety is down to a bunch of coots and out of touch, paranoid fools...”

    “But that’s just the truth, deep down?”

    The Gardevoir let her head drop as she nodded weakly, having to put in her utmost focus not to break down again. “It is.”

    Garret could only hold his wife in silence for a few long moments; their minds busy churning through the dilemma in near complete darkness. “Do you plan to tell her?”

    Aria flinched again, the crux of the issue showing itself in its full ugliness. “I... don’t know. I feel like I should; she deserves to know the truth. But at the same time, I don’t want to terrify her, or for her to lose trust in me...”

    “Why would she lose trust in you? It’s a rather white lie in the end, and only so that she remains happy—”

    “That is the exact excuse Cinder had used for what she’d done to Ember,” Aria explained, shuddering.

    Regardless of how incomparably different these two incidents felt like to the Grimmsnarl, he knew that trying to argue about that difference was way beside the point. “I doubt that’s the same situation as here, but... you do have a point, honey, yes. Well, I...”

    The more Garret thought, the more he realized he had no idea, either. Both options felt awful for their own reasons, the kind of awful that he’d be content staying away from for as long as he lived. Unfortunately, someone had to make these decisions in the end, and his wife had that burden of responsibility on her, on top of everything else.

    He had no answer, but he was still proud of Aria for tackling it all, even when she didn’t truly need to. “Honey, I wish I had an answer for you.”

    Aria’s acknowledgment was delivered through a couple of thoughtless nods. She wasn’t expecting a revelation, because why would there be one? There wasn’t a hidden third option that would make everyone happy; she and Garret had already gone through everything. Still, just the fact that he’d tried to help mattered a lot to the Gardevoir.

    He had no answer, but she was still immensely grateful to him for being here and letting her air it all out. “It’s... it’s okay, Garret. I’ll figure it out—”

    “Why not ask for help?” he suggested.

    The interjection left Aria stumped; her expression slowly shifting into confusion was noticed by her husband. “What do you mean?” she asked. “From who?”

    “Other scouts, the Elders. Someone who’s caught up on it all and could offer an informed opinion.”

    Aria wasn’t exactly eager at the idea.

    At least, not with most of her fellow scouts. She knew full well that all the Elders would offer her was either a silent treatment or a scoffed dismissal mixed with chiding because of her having revealed the truth about this place to Anne. Most of the other scouts weren’t too much better, but... some were. Finding someone who she could rely on to not be primarily driven by hatred of Anne would be a lot of help, as tricky as it sounded.

    Still beat wallowing in silence, she supposed. “I… can try that.”

    “Going out and getting some fresh air sure beats meditating on it in pitch black silence and getting nowhere, eh?”

    Aria rolled her eyes and flicked her husband’s nose; the counterattack delivered mercilessly just moments later.

    “Ouch!”

    “Ow.”

    Never failed to get at least a chuckle out of her. She sighed, “Yeah, that sounds right. Okay, I just need to grab my bearings and I think I’ll be ready to head out. The morning is just an hour or so away, anyway.”

    Garret giggled, “Awwwh, and here I wanted to ask whether you’d like to snooze a bit longer together—”

    knock, knock

    The couple’s combined gaze swooped upon the door to their room; any confusion answered by one tired, confused voice speaking up in the darkness shortly after. “^Mom, are you okay?^” Cadence mumbled, worried.

    Her parents sure didn’t expect her to show up, but couldn’t say that the Kirlia’s presence didn’t help in relieving the tension further. Aria responded, “^Yes, yes sweetie, I’m alright now. C’mere—^”

    Before the lil’ fairy knew it, she was suspended in Aria’s gentle telepathy as the door was pushed open before her. Within a single, drawn-out yawn, she’d gone from knocking at her parents’ door to sitting drowsy on her mom’s lap, not even blinking as she immediately leaned on her afterwards. “^Are you sure, mom? You were so scared there for a moment—yawn^”

    Aria couldn’t hold her yawn in response, not this time. “^Yawn Yes, yes I was, but... it was just a nightmare, like the ones you have sometimes.^”

    The creeping exhaustion didn’t make it any easier for Cadence to follow along with every word. Once her mom had wrapped up her sentence, though, the Kirlia knew exactly what to do at hearing the news. With no hesitation, she repeated the magical move taught to her by the very Gardevoir sitting beside her—and hugged her as tight as she could while almost asleep. “^Oh... I hope you feel better soon, mom.^”

    Cadence’s embrace might’ve been modest, but that absolutely didn’t extend to the ones her parents had showered upon her afterwards.

    “^I think I’m already a bit better with you here,^” Aria beamed.

    It took the entire reserve of the Kirlia’s awareness to parse through what her mom had meant; the response manifesting as a small smile that plunged the lil’ fairy firmly back into unconsciousness. A handful of quiet chuckles were exchanged, a bit more affection. In no time, Aria carefully laid Cadence down beside her brother and friend before turning around towards the burrow’s exit, not forgetting to put on her Safeguard this time.

    Ready or not, she had a duty to do.

    Unfortunately, despite the Gardevoir’s determination, her body didn’t exactly... agree in full.

    It certainly wanted to, as it always did, but this recent stretch was really beginning to show Aria her own bodily limits, exhaustion among them. The Gardevoir wouldn’t have thought that just three days of waking up early in a row would be enough to send her into such a tiresome hole, but here she was—really wishing she was asleep.

    While also being perfectly aware of how packed and extensive the schedule was for her today. She wouldn’t be getting any rest until well after Anne’s sentencing at the hands of their council. Assuming it ended in a good way, it would probably be the best night of sleep in her entire life. In the other case—

    No, no, there was no point in thinking about that.

    With a forceful shake of her head, Aria was back in the world around her, pushing straight ahead through the near darkness of such an early morning. Dark and Ghost-types aplenty ventured the street, their voices and footsteps quiet enough to not break above the background din.

    As much as the Gardevoir wanted to hit up Holly’s stall, she was early enough for Holly to not have even fully opened her pantry, somehow. A remarkable feat, with the Azumarill’s usual daily cycle having what felt like two hours of sleep—and that was the high end estimate.

    Guess she was just this excited to cook stuff for people, which as much of an excuse as it would feel like for most... really fit Holly in particular. The same part of her personality that made the fairy cook a joy when it came to preparing food for others, though, also made her a rather terrible match for how rattled Aria’s mind was in the moment.

    She needed someone less… overbearing. Plus, as much as Holly’s cooking appealed to Aria’s sweet tooth, Vivian offered more than just sweets. What exactly the dragon’s energy-infusing magic was, Aria didn’t know, but she sure liked how its effects sounded.

    Especially on this dark, foggy morning.

    The silly tangent helped the Gardevoir in making her way across the less than pleasant early morning. Both in giving her something to distract herself with, and in being funny enough for her occasional chuckles to only bolster her meager wakefulness further. In not too long, she was already at her destination.

    Or rather, what would become her destination in just a few drawn out moments.

    “...Aria?” Vivian asked, their soft voice shaking the Gardevoir from her semi-conscious stupor. The sudden snap to awareness had Aria standing in the middle of the street, blankly staring at the Goodra as they went through their usual routine of preparing their little corner for another busy, winter day. “Is everything alright? Awfully early for you.”

    Focus, focus.

    “^Yes, yes, that’s... half the reason I’m here, actually. I woke up and won’t be falling asleep again. The rest tonight wasn’t all that great, and I was thinking if you had something that could help with exhaustion on hand.^”

    Hardly the answer Vivian expected, but one they had just the thing for all the same. “Aaahh~. Well... I should have a thing or two, if you don’t mind more than a bit of Salac.”

    Cadence and half the other kids’ favorite, heh. All the sweetness, all the energy, all the speed one could ever want, all in a single bite of its juicy, cloying flesh. And… Aria might have liked it, too. “^I’ll be alright, don’t worry Vivian. Thanks a lot, it’s—^”

    “No need to go into it, Aria~. I take its some important scout stuff, and frankly that’s all I need to hear. Just lemme know how I can help, and I’ll try my best~.” the Goodra reassured, taking the Gardevoir aback as they finished opening their bar again. A small patch of modest fire underneath the teapot didn’t do an amazing job at lighting up an entire room, but it far beat nothing—triply so with all the sweet scents that began filling the air afterwards.

    “^Still... much appreciated,^” she answered. “^Past couple days have been rough.^”

    “I can only imagine~. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early, especially not this many days in a row. The mess with the human not letting anyone rest?”

    A part of Aria wanted to just scoff at the question; scoff and mumble angrily under her mouth. She could only guess how well those who were trying their hardest to oppose Anne’s stay were sleeping, and something told her that their rest was in nowhere near as much jeopardy as hers. It’d help her vent, she was sure of that, but it would be a... doubtful way of gathering sympathy, be it for herself or Anne. “^I know I can barely sleep, that’s for sure.^”

    Her answer was acknowledged with a bouncy nod as the large, rugged tea pot filled the air with its ever familiar whistle. Within moments, Vivian was already pouring the hot water to several nearby cups, be they a part of Aria’s request, for the dragon themself, or some generically sweet tea for anyone that stepped in and needed a pick-me-up.

    “Alriiiight! Salac juice, dried Custap, a bit of sugar, a bit of spice, mix aaaand there we go.”

    The contents of the mug placed down before Aria were... syrupy. Something to do with Salac juice and how it acted as a thickener, something more with how sweet the overall concoction was. The details were both beyond the Gardevoir’s knowledge, and beyond her care. All she needed was one good gulp to feel energy indiscriminately fill her body.

    Her nervously tapping feet grew more energetic, and fidgeting hands turned into little more than a blur. Her busy thoughts were pushed into an overdrive, one Aria had no idea whether it was even more helpful than her previous exhaustion. She sure wasn’t gonna be falling asleep like this.

    Not in a million years.

    “How is it~?” the dragon asked.

    Aria’s attention jumped towards Vivian in response to their question. And then to the stove beside them, the kettle on top of it, each individual mug next to them, one at a time, and then onto the other tiny items she could barely make out.

    “^That—that’s one hell of a kick. Makes me feel jumpy.^”

    “If I dare hazard a guess, you were already jumpy before and just too tired for that to show much~.”

    The Gardevoir tried rolling her eyes at the remark, but her gaze leaped to something else halfway through; unable to keep itself composed through the entirety of such an involved gesture. “^I guess.^”

    Vivian giggled, “Want me to take a stab at something to help soothe your nerves?”

    “^Doubt whether that’ll help much—^”

    “Aria?” a keening voice asked, the most surprised the Gardevoir had ever heard it. A glance over at the entrance to Viv’s bar revealed the accompanying Weavile’s expression be a perfect match for her voice; wide eyes blinking in utter confusion.

    “^I—^Uh, good morning, Ruby,” Aria answered, switching to her physical voice halfway through.

    “Isn’t it unholy early for you?”

    “It... is.”

    The Weavile’s eyes narrowed at the response. A part of her was keen to pry at the very confusing situation in front of her more, but she kept it contained for now. Instead, she just took her usual seat as the dragon served her usual request; the room-temperature tea struck the perfect temperature for warm drinks as far as the Ice-type was concerned.

    For a few moments, the two drank their respective teas in silence as several other late-night regulars started pouring in from around the village. Early-rising diurnals or by-now-tired nocturnals, everyone wanted in on some of that goodness. Ruby might’ve been a fixture this early in the day, but Aria certainly wasn’t. Most patrons just raised their eyebrows for a moment or two before moving on, thankfully.

    Plenty of reasons for the Gardevoir to have been there, and it sure wasn’t their business to pry at which of them was the case in particular. That was the approach of most of those who came by—but not all.

    “Aria, darlin’!?” Rose asked, startled. Her eyes were as wide as they got in their sunken-ness, her fur was slightly frizzled. She didn’t waste a moment leaning on a seat beside Aria’s and trying to establish eye contact with her, every passing second bringing more and more concern to her features.

    “Good morning, Rose,” the Gardevoir greeted.

    “Mornin’?” the Skuntank followed, rising her voice. “Hon, this ain’t anywhere close to morning! What’s wrong?”

    Everything. “Nothing.”

    “That’s a pretty hollow lie...” Ruby muttered.

    Aria blinked as her gaze shifted onto the Weavile, currently in the middle of another deep swig as her sharpened claws tapped the countertop. “What makes you say that, Ruby?”

    It was Ruby’s turn to roll her eyes as she set her cup down, her eventual admission delivered in a hesitant, almost annoyed tone. “I can hear your heartbeat, you know. It’s been hammering like mad, even beside your drink’s effects. Don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but... don’t lie to us, Aria.”

    As white and inconsequential as the lie was, Aria reeled as if struck at being called out like that. It was enough to make the two dark types grow further concerned at just what was going on with her. Suppose ultimately, there was no right way forward but to spill her dilemma to them and ask for their thoughts at the same time. Exactly what Garret had suggested earlier, but... it still felt rough to think about, let alone do.

    No way through but forwards, though.

    “It’s... about Anne,” Aria admitted.

    As she prepared to lay out what had been eating her up to the other two scouts, she looked over her shoulder, spotting an empty spot in the back of the bar. Not that separating themselves from the others would make much difference with the hearing of almost everyone here being notably better than hers, but... she still wanted that bit of privacy, even if it was an obvious placebo.

    A tilt of her head was all that was needed to convey her intent. The trio soon half sat, half huddled together on the cold bench in the corner, either mulling over or bracing themselves for Aria’s words. The resulting telepathy was tricky to establish despite the two Dark-types knowing to lower their guards around their coworker; nerves making the already tricky psychic maneuver even harder.

    “^I... lied to her. Yesterday morning, before we had our first hearing, I told her that her staying here was a done deal, and that she’s safe here. I did it to make her happy, to let have at least one day of peaceful happiness here after everything she’s been through. B-but now, I’m... doubting. I don’t know whether I should tell her the truth.^”

    Aria was grateful beyond words for neither of the two interjecting immediately and giving her the time to air her struggle in full, silly as it might have come off to one of them.

    “Not sure I see the point in that,” Ruby shrugged. “Comes off as just exposing her to more needless fear.”

    “^How so?^” Aria asked. She might not have been fully following Ruby’s train of thought, but was very glad that she had someone to bounce the discussion about all this off.

    “Think of it like this. If the vote goes against her and she has to leave, then there’s no point in letting her know since she’d have to forget it all, anyway. All it’d do is make her panic and be terrified for no reason. If she stays, then it will all blow over with time without her knowing. You’ll just tell her one day once she’s more equipped to deal with it.”

    The Gardevoir liked exactly none of what she’d heard.

    Even so, that was half of the point. Each idea she took as unsavory was one she’d have to find some reasoning against, eventually. The friendly atmosphere helped a lot, as did further affection from Rose once she’d been quiet for quite a while, mulling through it all.

    As Aria thought about it, though, there was one ‘objective’ fact that further went against Ruby’s idea. And as anxiety inducing as it was in the abstract, Aria sure appreciated it here as a rhetorical argument. “^I doubt that’ll work even on a practical level. Celia asked for Anne to be physically present at the vote after all. Even if she won’t know what’s going on exactly, she’ll still be terrified and unsure about why she’s there in the first place.^”

    That... was quite a hitch for her idea, the Weavile had to admit that. Still, just a hitch, and if there was anyone well equipped to handle that exact hitch, it was the Gardevoir beside her. “Point taken. Even then, I don’t doubt that a psychic as skilled as yourself could come up with some way of fooling her about where she is and what’s going on, if needed.”

    Ruby’s remark had Aria think back to the previous time she’d complimented her skill, all the way at the very beginning of Anne’s stay here. It was made all the more disgusting in hindsight, just as the idea of deceiving Anne was sickening in the present. Justified or not, a web of lies was a web of lies—one that would unravel sooner or later.

    “Yeah, naaaah, I really doubt that’s the right way on, Ruby. Aria, hun, how much does Annie already trust ya?” Rose asked, raising her eyebrow at her fellow Dark-type.

    Aria tried her best at making the resulting exhale be as inconspicuous as possible. Ruby still heard it perfectly fine, rolling her eyes out of sight as the Gardevoir responded. “^She... I think she completely trusts me by now.^”

    The realization felt equal parts soothing and hurtful. To earn that amount of trust from someone so vulnerable, and to toss it aside afterwards in a spur-of-the-moment lie; an ever-growing debt to the truth that had accumulated immense interest over just one day.

    “Ain’t that sweet to hear,” Rose smiled. “Why haven’t ya told her already?”

    An innocent question, another flinch going through Aria’s body. Why oh why, that’s the question indeed.

    “^I... I wanted her to be happy. Happy and safe. It felt like if I had told her, she’d be terrified in her every waking moment with the possibility of her being tossed out looming over the horizon. She doesn’t deserve that kind of hell, nobody does.^”

    Just like Ember didn’t deserve the hell of knowing that her best friend was still suffering so close to her home, eh?

    Her friends’ questions stung, but her self-conscious comparing her to Cinder felt like a lightning fast gut punch, making the Gardevoir physically double over.

    “Aria, what’s wrong?” Ruby asked matter-of-factly. She scanned for threats immediately after, but alas, nothing even her senses could spot.

    Nothing outside the confines of the Gardevoir’s skull.

    “^Nothing, nothing, it’s just... it’s so hard. That’s the exact same reasoning that Cinder used for doing what she did, I—^”

    pat pat

    The sensation of the soft fur and blunted claws patting her shoulder snapped Aria out of any further loathing. Rose immediately followed up her display of affection with a nuzzle to the psychic’s exposed side before speaking up; her voice understanding if low, “Yeah, I’d be lyin’ if I said there ain’t no similarities. But, but, but—your mistake is one day old, and not with a birthday under its belt. Hell, I’d say it’s more understandable in the end, even if just as wrong.”

    “But what does coming clean with all this do except scare Anne further?” Ruby asked. The keenness her voice made it difficult to spot, but there was some genuine curiosity in there, too.

    “Th’ way I see it, two things. One, tells her yer honest, and two, lets her know ya can admit to mistakes. Everyone makes them, even ones we love and trust, but how ya handle them is the sticker,” the Skuntank explained.

    “I’m unsure how much honesty is good for if it only results in misery.”

    “Plenty!” Rose hollered, “‘Cause things suck from time to time, no matter what ya do. Ya either let the ones you’re protectin’ know about that, letting them brace themselves for it, or ya don’t, and end up prayin’ the entire time they won’t figure it out by themselves.”

    “I doubt the latter is an option with the girl not knowing our language,” Ruby argued—at least before Rose’s undignified laughter cut her off.

    Chittered noises echoed through the small bar and spilled out onto the surrounding streets to the backdrop of the brightening sky, inadvertently waking at least a couple of people up. The Weavile was less offended at the response than she was dumbstruck, having genuinely no idea what about what she’d said was so funny.

    Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to wait too long for the Skuntank to explain, “Ruby, Ruby hun, can I tell with utter certainty you don’t have any kids, ha!”

    Jovial as the reply was, it unintentionally stung a bit, the other Dark-type’s gaze sliding away. “I know. Me and wife are open to take someone in if need arises, but... haven’t had that happen yet. Not that it’d be a good thing if it happened, don’t want fate to come up with an orphan just so that I can feel like a mother.”

    Blunt as Rose was, even she noticed that one.

    Aria was blocking physical access to the Weavile, but it didn’t take long for a quick coordinated intervention to correct that. In a single swift motion, Aria slid in her seat while pulling Ruby along with her, while Rose climbed up onto the spot the Weavile occupied moments earlier, pushing through the extra frosty seat to give her some complimentary nuzzles.

    “Sorry, hun.”

    Ruby was of half a mind to dismiss all this out of hand, but... didn’t. Being comforted felt nice even for a former apex predator, who could’ve known. “It’s... thanks, you two. Don’t worry Rose, I’m not holding it against you or anything, it just... stung.”

    “I get that, Ruby, doncha worry. Hope something works out for ya two. But, back to my point—kids are bloody smart. All kids, even the tiny tykes, even the ones that can’t talk or walk yet. They can piece stuff together way more than we give them credit for. Hell, I figured out quite a few things about the human world despite only ever being a nuisance for them and not knowing a lick about their language. Even if nobody tells Anne overtly, she’ll figure it out one day.”

    Rose paused to catch her breath before turning to Aria directly, voice growing serious, “T’way I see it, Anne either learns it on your terms, or on hers.”

    It was hard to disagree with that framing, unnerving the Gardevoir even further. She had increasingly less doubt left in her that confessing right away was the best way to go, but... “^What if it’s already too late? What if me having made that lie in the first place is enough for her to never trust me again?^”

    There weren’t any truly correct answers to that question, and that fact alone almost sent Aria spiraling there and then.

    “Even if so, what would withholding the truth any longer do?” the Weavile asked. Her being the one to raise that point as opposed to the Skuntank raised the eyebrows of the other two. Ruby acknowledged the extra attention with an eye roll before elaborating, gesturing with a clawed paw as she spoke, “Can’t say I fully agree, but I see the reasoning. With it all granted, there’s hardly a reason for you to delay any longer than needed, if it’s going to result in the eventual revelation hurting her trust in you even more.”

    There weren’t any holes Aria could see in Ruby’s argument, which her mind appreciated. Her soul, though, didn’t, not one bit. Even the best course of action of immediately confessing to Anne as soon as she was awake still bore the risk of her trust being betrayed forever, and not without a reason. No matter how remote the possibility was, the Gardevoir couldn’t look away, not with how overwhelmingly terrible that outcome felt like.

    In the end, it was unavoidable. Merely yet another consequence of her actions, for better or worse. She could either face it there and then, like an adult, or she could be Cinder. Again.

    The comparison hurt once more, but this time, Aria had braced herself for it and pushed through, the invisible battle inside only barely noticed by her friends. “^Right. I was just... worried that it’s too late. That no matter what I do, her trust is lost forever.^”

    “Naaaaah.” Rose denied, flicking her paw. “You’ve been doing so much for her, hun, and she definitely sees it. I’ve no doubt in my mind she’ll forgive ya sooner rather than later. I can’t promise promise ya that, but what I can promise is that honesty will work out the best for ya.”

    It was all the confidence Aria was ever going to get. Not much in objective terms, but that’s just what she had to work with, whether she liked it or not. “^R-right. I can’t thank you two enough for hearing me out about this. It’s been a great help.^”

    “Anytime, hun!”

    “You’re welcome, Aria.”

    Right as Aria was about to get up and out of the bar, though, one nagging uncertainty at the back of her mind caught her attention, shifting it back towards the Weavile. “^Ruby?^” The Dark-type wordlessly snapped her gaze over at the fairy, raising her eyebrow as the Gardevoir continued, “^What do you think about Anne on the whole? For the upcoming vote?^”

    Aria expected many answers to that question, myriads of comforting and distressing ones alike—what she didn’t expect was a shrug. On its own, the sight was firmly towards the negative side of the emotional spectrum, but the elaboration that followed helped right away. “She’s a kid, right?”

    A dumbfounded nod from the Gardevoir.

    “We take stray kids in. Prey, predator, insect, quadruped. Mon, human. Kid’s a kid, why wouldn’t we take her in. Hate that this is even something we have to argue about.”

    This time, Aria didn’t even try to hide her expression of relief as a shaky smile crept onto her face. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, thanking the two Dark-types one more time before heading out into the slowly dying night. That made six certain for, and six certain against. The only remaining wildcard was Ori, and between Geiger’s and Marco’s intervention, Aria had reasons to hope that things would turn out alright.

    Maybe, just maybe, she would make right on her promise to Anne, after all.

    As helpful as Vivian’s drink was with getting her back on her feet, Aria’s stomach wasted no time complaining about the lack of any actual nutrients beyond the equivalent of seventeen teaspoons of sugar. Holly’s was already long since open, and grabbing something larger to start an arduous day off with was a no brainer. For once, she even overcame her sweet tooth and went with an actually healthy meal.

    She was far from the only one eating in the vicinity, though. “Aria? A word if you could.”

    Using the utmost willpower, Aria resisted cringing at hearing the Torkoal’s low, slow voice break the surrounding quiet. She wouldn’t enjoy this, but she would at least manage to push through. “^Yes, Elder Ana?^”

    As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, Winnie was there too, soon emerging from behind the nearest corner to join the fiery tortoise. A tiny part of Aria worried that the old coots had just cracked either her plan or how she’d handled the human librarian. Thankfully, that concern too was for naught, with something much more benign following instead.

    “What’s the situation with the human?” Ana asked, not even attempting to maintain any facade of secrecy anymore, not with all the rumors about the girl in their midst having circumvented their village ten times over before she even got out of her den.

    “^Anne is doing well. Autumn and my kids spent a lot of time with her yesterday, and they enjoyed each other’s presence. Ember had woken up since, and the two are almost inseparable when together.^”

    The Torkoal chewed on all the information, her expression maintaining its usual focus. That is, until one addition in particular led her to narrow her gaze even further than usual, the question that followed accusatory. “Why bring your children along?”

    Despite all the effort Aria could muster, namely none, she couldn’t keep a smug smirk off her face. “^If Anne is to stay at our village for good, in my den, then it’s best she gets to know her denmates as soon as possible, no?^”

    “‘Stay at our village’, preposterous,” Winnie whined, disgusted.

    Aria breathed deeply, trying to main composure. To her surprise, though, it wasn’t just her who had a reaction to the Breloom’s words; Ana sighed in disappointment as she muttered a response, “If that’s what today’s vote settles on, then that’s what will happen.”

    The Breloom rolled his eyes, “I suppose then I’ll finally have my proof that everyone’s gone mad!”

    “That is a grievous oversimplification and you should know it, Winnie.”

    “Oversimplification!? Hmph. Orion wouldn’t have allowed any of this madness—”

    Right as the Gardevoir was bracing herself for another of Winnie’s bigoted rants, a very unfamiliar sound reached her ears. Rhythmic and scraping, crackling of flame mixing with stone grinding on stone. Inanimate and lively alike, as if someone forced a fossil to laugh.

    Describing Ana as a ‘fossil’ wasn’t particularly nice, but it was hardly inaccurate, either.

    Both Aria and Winnie had to take a moment to process seeing the Torkoal openly laughing. Especially when they realized she was doing so right in the Breloom’s face. “Orion was the exact person who would’ve been going through with all this madness.” She muttered, voice doing the closest thing to mockery it was capable of. “With every day, I’m believing more and more that excess spores are eroding at your brain, Winnie.”

    As the Gardevoir was putting her utmost effort into not letting her amusement show, the Breloom continued with his offended schtick. “Even he was so much more grounded than this—”

    “No he wasn’t, you fool. We almost had to keep him tied to a tree at all times, else his head would drag the rest of him into the clouds. Did you already forget why he liked you in the first place?” Ana asked. Winnie was too taken aback by a fellow Elder acting out against him to respond, making the Torkoal follow soon after, “You were his anchor. Night to his day. The polar opposite that kept him grounded and made sure there always was a dissenting perspective on hand.”

    Winnie grumbled, “You have to be misremembering, Ana, for there is no way someone so fooling as what you’re describing would ever create a place like this—”

    “And that’s exactly what happened. He dreamed this place into existence. All we ever did was occasionally help him out and maintain it after...” Ana started, voice petering out into a long, painful pause. Even Winnie took the cue to shut up as everyone reminisced about what they remembered of the Zoroark.

    Much to her regret, Aria never got to interact much with him.

    She’d arrived with Marco just months before he’d passed away. Even back then, so close to his end, she remembered him being so... busy, engrossed in the village’s everyday life, far from just an abstract founder and leader. Someone who had never met a person he didn’t want to help if there was any way he could.

    The most vivid memory she had of him was only a few days after they wound up in this place. Back when she was only steadily growing used to interacting with Dark-types; actively pushed through all the lies about them that her family had instilled in her. She would end up getting lost in search of... somewhere, her memory didn’t quite catch where it was that she couldn’t find her way around to.

    Eventually, she ran into him, clearly lost.

    There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation in Orion’s gestures as he started doing charades with her; the wordless play made much more effective with illusions of the places she could be heading towards. It all must’ve dragged on for way over half an hour, an unreasonable amount of time to waste on someone when one could just point them towards a nearby non-Dark type. And yet, he went through it all, neither his smile nor determination faltering at any point. His presence made the village so much brighter.

    “If Orion was still around, we would’ve all needed to drag him away from housing the human in his den there and then, concerns about security be damned,” the Torkoal grumbled, snapping the gathering back to awareness.

    All the Breloom could do was roll his eyes at the obviously accurate observation, but the Gardevoir... saw an opportunity to press further. “^Well, how does Anne’s presence raise any security concerns?^”

    Winnie’s scoff was expected to an extent, but not the mocking laughter that followed. Despite Aria’s best efforts, she felt her composure be strained at the sound. She didn’t expect to ever think that out loud, but goodness was she glad that Ana spoke up with her usual scaremongering stuff shortly after, silencing her fellow Elder. “In the obvious way. A missing human means that someone will look for her, bringing further attention upon us.”

    “^If that was still the case, we would expect further human presence than just the two half-hearted incidents from a couple of days ago. I’ve talked to one of the few humans Anne trusted about this. Almost nobody cared about her back in their town, and that won’t change just because she’s gone. If anything, that’s a further reason for us to care about her, to undo all the neglect on the hands of humanity over the years.^”

    Neither of the two women were expecting the Breloom to say anything insightful. And, predictably, he didn’t. “Mere pity doesn’t make this entire madness any less unspeakable.”

    “Even if it’s the minimum of attention, it still contributes towards us being more likely to be discovered,” Ana followed, her point much harder to dismiss than Winnie’s rambles. It wasn’t a good point, but at least she was making an actual argument.

    One, Aria soon realized, that didn’t apply to just humans. “^You could raise that exact concern about any of us, Elder Ana.^”

    The Torkoal’s gaze leaped up all the way to the fairy’s face; pursed eyelids parted for the first time in what had to be months. The immediate impact filled the Gardevoir with confidence, prompting her to double down on her point, “^Whether we like it or not, we’re very close to their settlements. Each new head here increases the risk that someone will be spotted by a human and thought of as suspicious, without our knowledge. Each new building we raise makes us more visible despite our attempts to hide. More likely to be found by someone or something, potentially a human contraption that we can’t just intimidate or brainwash away. That’s always a risk.^”

    As confident as Aria was in her point, she soon realized it was potentially too effective. As she finished her lecture, she sensed the Torkoal go from entirely composed to outright panicking; the outside appearance showing very little of it beyond nervous shaking and shallow breaths. Despite any animosity she might’ve had towards the Elder, the Gardevoir was on the brink of calling for help, unsure what was going on and not wanting to dig into her thoughts.

    “I strongly doubt mere humans have anything she can’t easily hide from. They would’ve already found us if that was the case!” Winnie boasted, words falling on deaf ears as Aria looked down at Ana in concern.

    Soon after, her gaze was returned, the sight of the Gardevoir finally forcing the Torkoal to regain some of her composure and try to at least vocalize what was wrong, “Y-you don’t know that, Winnie. Aria—Aria is right. The risk keeps growing and—and we aren’t doing enough about it.”

    “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for Aria’s hysterical exaggeration, Ana—OW!”

    Despite Aria managing to stop herself from doing something she would’ve regretted, for once it was Ana who didn’t have that restraint. The Breloom hopped in place as his extendable arms held his burned leg, bearing a fresh burn in the shape of Ana’s paw print.

    Immensely gratifying as the sight was, the Gardevoir couldn’t care much about it at the moment, her attention shifting to the Torkoal’s admission instead. “^Why not, then? Did you not consider that risk before—^”

    “Of course I have, we have. Orion has. I remember his plans. Underground shelters, even an idea to make as much of our village underground as possible, nigh invisible from the air. Plans about digging escape tunnels all the way over to the human ruin you’re scouting towards, just in case. He had his ideas of managing risk, even brought up the possibility of relocating us all to a less risky area now that we know that this location isn’t sustainable, but...” Ana trembled as her head sank towards the snowy floor; a drawn-out sigh forcing the most pitiful of smoke clouds out of her hump. “Time spares none.”

    Through the supernatural power of having any restraint whatsoever and the scorch marks on his foot, Winnie stopped himself from adding another unwanted comment.

    “Maybe... maybe if he had told us about the sickness eating his body earlier, we would’ve been able to settle on a long-term plan before he left us,” Ana wondered. “^But he didn’t. And we have to live with that, unable to even come close to his insights.”

    “That’s far from true, Ana! You’ve been the best leader any of us could ever hope for—”

    “Spare me the flattery, you moldy fusspot. I know my weaknesses well, and especially now, they feel crippling. Orion... had ideas. Dreams. Desires. The way our village was there and then was always only a work in progress for him, just a slice of the unending vision that gave birth to this place. I... don’t have them. Don’t know how to have them. I don’t know what he saw. Even if I did, I doubt I’d be able to push on where needed. He dared to risk in everything he did, made wild changes that left us all for the better, and I—” the Torkoal paused, her body language shrinking. “I can’t put myself in that mindset. All I can do is maintain things as they are, managing risk in the most passive way. I’m not suited to be the leader, never was.”

    “Of course you are!” the Breloom argued.

    “How?”

    “Despite everything, you maintain objectivity! You don’t just let anyone overly emotional rock the boat with us all in it, your neutrality is admirable—”

    “MY NEUTRALITY IS WORTHLESS,” the Torkoal snapped back; the loudest she had ever been. It’s as if her voice had turned from one burning rock shuffling along the ground, to two burning rocks shuffling along the ground. “It’s hardly a virtue, just a way of avoiding any commitment. Something to help keep me from going insane from the weight being placed on my back. Dispassionateness breeds stagnation, and I’m the proof of that.”

    As much as the Gardevoir appreciated the frankness, it helped little on its own. Much like she and Cinder alike were repeatedly learning, admitting to one’s mistakes is just the very first step. By far the easiest and most meaningless.

    Still, so much more than she ever expected in this specific case, though. “^It sounds like you’ve acknowledged that we can’t continue to exist exactly like this forever.^”

    Another deep inhale, another puff of off-white smoke filling the earliest of dawn. “Rationally, yes. Emotionally... I’m not the right person to oversee change, never was. Neither are Winnie nor Celia.”

    “That’s—”

    “If things were up to you, time would flow backwards. And Celia... ideas are only any good if communicated with others. Not something I, or anyone else, can force her to do.”

    “^Then it sounds like you need a new perspective,^” Aria suggested, trying her hardest to keep any smugness from leaking into her voice.

    Ana remained quiet at the allusion of their current leadership not being cut for the job. She very much agreed with the underlying claim, but... pride was still pride. It was difficult to elevate external critique to the same level as internal self-loathing. She at least tried, though.

    “Are you threatening us with a coup!?” Winnie cried, earning himself adrawn out, unamused look from everyone gathered before the two women focused on each other again.

    Aria continued, “^Someone with a vision. Someone who deeply knows humans, and can advise much better on how to avoid them going forward.^”

    It wasn’t exactly difficult to piece the leads together, Ana’s mind shifting gears from sadness to pensiveness. “Geiger.”

    “Oh, don’t mock this position, Ana! What next, choosing that humanling as an Elder!?”

    “As far as I’m concerned, she would be a marked improvement over you, especially right now.”

    Despite being plenty used to being the butt of most comparisons, this one actually got to Winnie. Petty insults were one thing; to be negatively compared to a human was another, a much more acutely hitting slight. For a few moments, the Breloom could only shake in anger before storming off with a loud “HMPH!”.

    Neither of the two dwelt on his departure for more than a moment before Aria continued once more, “^If there’s anything I’ve learned about humanity over the past few days, it’s that we have no chance if we don’t know everything we can about them. What their technology can do, how they behave, how they live and so on. Geiger obviously knows a lot about that. And...^” Aria paused considering her words. If there was even a chance it would work out, though, she was eager to go all in. “^...Anne’s perspective could help a lot. About the sorts of everyday human things even Geiger would know little about.^”

    For once, the Torkoal remained completely silent; mind sunken into deep thought. A stray beam of sunshine broke Aria’s focus as she waited for a response; a glance upward revealed most of the sky to have shifted from reds and pinks to ever brightening blues. The sun was here, and Anne would likely be awake before long, assuming she already wasn’t.

    “^I should be going now.^”

    The Torkoal nodded deeply without speaking up right away. It was only after the Gardevoir got moving towards the clinic and walked around the tortoise, did the weak, croaked words leave Ana’s mouth, as somber as they were genuine—

    “Thank you. May the winds hasten you, Aria.”


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    • Interlude V: Hope

    • Interlude V: Hope​


    “Orion, where you go now.”

    The buzz of the surrounding drizzle muffled Ana’s tired, heavy words. This weather was much too ugly for her to be left on her own again. Doubly so with her rest last night having been... strenuous. She rationally knew that one day she’d stop getting woken up by single raindrops impacting her shell, but that day sure hadn’t come yet. Ugly as the mountains from which she hailed from might’ve been, at least they weren’t as permanently soggy as this place has been lately.

    The Torkoal wasn’t about to chase the Zoroark into the thick of the rain. Instead, she sighed out a plume of smoke as she inched herself further away from the nasty wetness, waiting for either him or Winnie to return. Speaking of.

    “He go somewhere again!?” the Breloom whined, carrying the spoils in his arms.

    “Yes.”

    At least the food had arrived.

    Ana looked up just in time to see the small berry be placed in front of her, immediately reaching to bite into it as Winnie sat beside her. “Orion like, see pretty leaf, and chase chase chase, hmph,” he grumbled.

    “At least he happy,” she sighed.

    As eccentric as Orion was, he had a charm to him, one the Breloom lacked so acutely that she wondered what did the Zoroark even see in him. On the other paw, she knew perfectly that her current crankiness wasn’t helping either. Once life saw fit to finally give them all a break, they’d probably warm up to each other a decent bit. Or, at least, so she hoped.

    “He not happy ever!? He always smile, what world wrong he with!?”

    The Torkoal was somewhat confident about what the Breloom had just said, but nowhere near as much as she wished she was. It would take time, much more than just the couple of moons they had all known each other for. Orion’s weird, artificial language may have been awkward, but Ana knew that the significance of what it made possible was so much more important than her personal gripes.

    Stilted as it was, it had still allowed her to find community and friendship outside the confines of her tribe’s bigotry. Even if they all were to never amount to anything more than what they’ve already been through, she still had the Zoroark to thank for saving her from being forcibly assigned a mate or another.

    And for that alone, she was more than willing to put up with any of his quirks.

    She droned, “If choice always annoyance and always cheer, I know what I choose—”

    awwwwoooOOOOO!

    The howl hit them both like a Brick Break to the face; the brief confusion soon turned into a worried resolve. Neither of them had known him for long enough to truly know whether it was unlike Orion, but what they knew was that it worried them. Then again, disguising and getting away was the easiest thing in the world for him, and that sure didn’t sound like a distress call—

    Before Ana could give it all any more thought, though, she found herself suddenly lifted and carried right into the rain. “WINNIE, WHAT ARE—”

    “HE CALL FOR HELP!”

    “NO, HE N—”

    “WE COME NOW, ORION!”

    The Torkoal’s world had turned into a blur of browns and greens as hundreds of freezing stings barraged her body. Each of the Breloom’s leaping steps had her wince, the sheer vertigo threatening to either make her erupt, throw up, or both. Right as she was about to lose the last of her composure, though, everything came to a stop, followed by her being clumsily placed on a soaked patch of grass.

    If Winnie had the decency to look down at her at that moment, Ana probably could’ve seared him with her glare alone. “Orion, Orion where you!?” the Breloom shouted.

    “Hey, guys!” the giddy words cut the Torkoal off before she could speak up, mouth closing as she and Winnie looked up the nearby hill. It stood out greatly from the clearing before it, and much the same was true of the oak that sprouted from its very top.

    And even more so of the Zoroark taking the scenery in from one of its lower branches.

    Pretty as the sights were, his friends were more important. Without skipping a beat, he leaped from branch to branch, digging into the bark when needed, and reaching solid ground just moments later—only to immediately slip on the wet, leaf-covered ground, before sliding down the hill on his rear, to the tune of his own laughter. “Ahahaha! Hey, guys, whattcha do here?”

    Orion didn’t even bother getting up, taking a moment to get comfortable on the ground instead and checking up on his friends. “You good, Ana?”

    “I—”

    “Orion, what happen!?” Winnie yelled, confused. “Someone attack you!?”

    “What?” the Zoroark blurted, dumbfounded, uncertain where that idea even came from. “I look at view!”

    “…and howl?”

    “Why no, Ana? Here beautiful! Right what I look for!”

    Both Ana and Winnie sighed at the remark, though for different reasons. The former was about to speak up about everything they’d need to check before even considering settling down, but ultimately held back, knowing the latter would cut her off, anyway. “Orion, human village dream again!?”

    “Winnie, dear, here all good!”

    The Breloom argued back, “Not talk place! Why talk humans, again again!? We make great by us, no humans!”

    “Because—”

    “^Excuse me?^”

    Despite Orion not having heard the voice, spotting the surprise on the faces of his friends got him to stop too, stop and glance over at what had caught their attention. An Indeedee was eying them out, the uncertain expression on her face flip-flopping between concern and curiosity. Some other creature, tiny and pink, was trying to peek out from behind her, shying away the moment any of the three had looked their way.

    As hesitant as the other two got, the Zoroark was downright ecstatic. The opportunity to see for himself whether it was actually possible for a Psychic-type to link up with him didn’t come often, and this one was perfect. Trying to keep himself as small as he could, he turned towards the stranger. The Indeedee’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took a couple steps back, only to then raise an eyebrow as the Dark-type... waved at her.

    And just sat there.

    “He wants you to link with him,” Ana explained. As much as she appreciated the immense ease of communication that telepathy brought with itself, she wasn’t sure how much her elaboration would help. Especially with the inherent absurdity of a psychic even trying to speak telepathically with a Dark-type. It was one of these obvious things that nobody questioned, for there was no reason to question it, and for Orion to insist that it was indeed possible was... entirely like him.

    As were his wild ideas turning out to be correct.

    Miraculously, the Indeedee didn’t react with utter confusion at the explanation. A bit of focus and three pinches of effort later, Orion felt something jolt in his mind after he’d deliberately lowered his mental guard, adding a heaping pile of fuel to the flame of excitement.

    “^Hel—^”

    “Greetings, ma’am! It’s wonderful to meet you here; my name is Orion!”

    After getting over the sudden voice’s impact, the short psychic finally found it in her to respond. “^Hello there! Is everything alright? I’m quite sure I heard you howl just now.^”

    “More than alright, I’d say!” Orion beamed. “We’ve just stumbled upon this beautiful clearing, perfect for a settlement!”

    “^A settlement? How so?^”

    It was the exact question the Zoroark was waiting for.

    He got onto his feet with a wide smile, gesturing towards the clearing as Winnie grumbled into his hand. A reddish sheen covered his paws and eyes as mirages of dozens of wooden huts and human-like houses alike manifested out of thin air. The Indeedee gasped at the illusory sights, too stunned to do more than stand and gawk as the Dark-type explained, “Just like humans do! There’s almost nothing in their towns that we can’t replicate in some way!”

    “Or we could keep living as ourselves and not descend to the level of humanity!” the Breloom shouted.

    “Oh Winnie, Winnie, don’t be like thaaaat~. I’ve lived with them for a good while; they’re far from all terrible, you know thaaat~.”

    The Indeedee gasped, “^You lived with humans?^”

    Orion’s smile didn’t even have the time to finish shifting into a smirk before a human manifested from the thin air where he once stood. Light brown skin, long gray hair, an all black outfit. Nobody gathered knew how good of a disguise it actually was, but it sure looked human to them.

    “On and off for a few years! Even though they had no idea who I was and I couldn’t talk, they would still help me out all the time! There were places where I could get food, no questions asked, kitchens for use by everyone, and so much empty housing for the taking! There’s nothing there that we can’t band together and recreate ourselves!”

    “If it was so easy, some other mons would’ve already tried it!”

    “How do you know they haven’t, dear Winnie~?”

    Despite the pointedness of the question, the Breloom had plenty of answers to it, all of them wrong. For once, though, it was the Torkoal that got the word in first, “As we’ve discussed, Orion, there are many considerations before we can even start planning such an undertaking.”

    “Doncha worry, Ana! That’s what we’ve got our friend here for; she’ll know best. Any reasons this wouldn’t be a good place, Ma’am...?”

    “^Autumn. Hmm... none I can think of. There is a human town several hours away, but I’ve never seen anyone from there come here. Haven’t had any encounters with any large predators either, but…. that is a massive undertaking, if I’m understanding it right.^”

    “Something for us to spend our lives on, and for our children to relish in the safety of. A place free from either humanity’s cruelty, or the bigotry of insular tribes, a place we can all call home,” Orion beamed. His rousing speech affected some listeners more than others; Autumn’s expression softened into a sad smile as she looked over her shoulder, only for her eyes to go wide.

    “If there’s anything we should put our strength and will to, it’s a place like that. And this serendipitous clearing is just about the most beautiful one yet! See, see, even the weather’s clearing up, the Gods are clearly encouraging us to proceed—OH GOODNESS LOOK AT THAT RAINBOW, IT’S GORGEOUS!”

    As much as she begrudged Orion getting this emotional sometimes, Ana couldn’t deny that this kind of hope was infectious. There were still so many details they’d need to discuss and agree on, so many risks to be weighed. Those could all be dealt with down the line. But there and now, having something to strive towards was worth more than anything—

    “OW! WHAT’S—GET IT OFF ME!” Winnie screeched, snapping Ana out of her pensive mood. A glance upward revealed the Breloom to be thrashing in place with something pink clinging to the back of his head, the Zoroark to be laughing his lungs out about it, and the newly met Indeedee to be trying her best to do something about it.

    “^Garret, please get down!^”

    “I already like this place.”


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    • Chapter 21: Promise

    • Chapter 21: Promise​


    yaaaaaaaaawwwwn

    The quiet, high-pitched sound filled the clinic’s main chamber as a tiny tree stump stretched beside the sleeping ghost. Sage reached out more and more of her spectral body from its wooden shell as she came to, looking around the dim space. Despite how dark it still was, she already felt more awake than not. And, as her cursory sweep of the room showed, she was probably the only one.

    Her and Yaksha’s was the last of a row of beds spanning the entire clinic, with a second one mirroring it in front of the opposite wall. Thankfully, only a few of them were occupied, and said occupants all looked firmly asleep. The thought still scared her a bit, but... it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look at them, right?

    With as deep of a breath as her lung-less body could manage and Yaksha’s protective presence on her mind, the Phantump slowly hovered towards the nearest occupied bed. It was tricky to make out most of its occupant from underneath the large blanket, but the striped tail with a red bulb at the end was a giveaway on its own. A giveaway Sage didn’t remember enough to identify, making her fly closer to the yellow-black extremity to see if she could—

    zz-zap!

    The tiny discharge of static had the ghost dash behind the nearest bed for protection. It didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as she thought it would; she couldn’t even feel it after just a few moments. Even despite that, if she still had a heart, it would’ve been absolutely hammering in fear at the jolt and the dangers it could’ve implied.

    At least they didn’t wake up.

    While Sage floated away from the Ampharos, she kept fighting with herself to turn around and go back to Yaksha’s bed, to return to his dry, but earnest protection. She knew nothing bad would come to her there, not the sorts of things that could happen to her if she accidentally annoyed one of the sleeping patients, but... but...

    There was always the chance that she’d find out what she once was. Or, at least, remind herself of something important. Anything but this anxiety-inducing unknown—anything but this tattered recollection that inevitably ended in trauma.

    With that tear-inducing reassurance, the Phantump kept going. She steadied her breathing once more while she hovered over to the next bed, its occupant much more visible. Yellow beak, presently wrapped in bandages, a bunch of white feathers covering its front and face, and reddish down elsewhere. She remembered seeing so many of them, always in very happy situations. Yeah. Though her mom kept telling her not to get too close, Sage had no idea why, especially since they brought berries or gifts every time—

    The Delibird’s frigid exhale answered the ghost’s dilemma before she could even think through it any further. It felt like her face was burning; the frost covering its bottom rim stung; it all hurt so much. She immediately dashed back to her guardian ghost with a squeak of pain, avoiding holding him as tight as possible through the sheer force of will.

    Instead, she tried lying down on the barebones mattress, hoping that whatever heat remained in it would help warm her face up. She froze as she heard shuffling from further in the room, flinching with every step coming her way. Eventually, a concerned-sounding question came her way, delivered in birdsong. It didn’t sound angry—the opposite, if anything—but Sage remained too afraid to look up at them even as the worst of the pain finally subsided.

    It didn’t hurt that bad in hindsight, but... it still hurt. And she didn’t want to hurt.

    After the most tensely awkward half-minute or so of Sage’s afterlife, the Delibird eventually took her lack of response as an answer. Unseen, they slowly backed off into their bed. Once she heard the thud of them lying back down, she kept checking if they were asleep every few moments, only daring to move again once they had been completely still for a while. This was all so scary—so much more so than she would’ve thought. Especially with how homely this little settlement was otherwise.

    Scary or not, Yaksha was there.

    With all the frost gone from her wooden face, Sage could finally try huddling up to him closer, to ask for sorely needed reassurance. Right as she was about to do that, though, she heard some sounds from the room on the nearby wall’s other side.

    One of the voices she remembered hearing yesterday. It could even have been that scary human that Yaksha was so angry about. A part of her was still scared of that idea, but... far, far from all of her. With the Banette asleep and nobody else around being awake anymore to see her do it, the Phantump slowly floated up and closer to the thick sheet of canvas separating the rooms.

    Float all the way over, take a deep breath, one, two, three, lean in—

    The slightly warmer air tingled Sage’s face and helped melt through what remained of the frost. The pleasant sensations were nowhere near what the rest of the ghost was focused on, the sight of a human almost enough to make her withdraw back there and then—but only almost.

    She still didn’t dare move further forward, content to snoop on the sleeping stranger from her near-ceiling vantage point. Everything she’d heard about them from Yaksha and even many things she had experienced told her she should’ve been terrified at that moment, but... she wasn’t. Apprehensive, a bit intimidated, sure, but only that. In fact, with how that human kept shifting and tossing around, Sage felt rather sorry for them.

    Doubly so with the cast on their arm.

    Seeing what the Phantump assumed to be a part of the shadows in the room’s corner suddenly move startled her out of any further compassionate thoughts. Nigh-imperceptible darkness coalesced into the shape of a tall owl, further chilling her thoughts. The ghost girl maintained any semblance of composure only at the realization that the Decidueye didn’t see her. Instead, they walked over to the human and laid the tip of their wing on her head before gently stroking her hair.

    As comforting as the gesture was, it also had the unavoidable effect of waking said human up, with a light startle, no less. The sight made the owl coo something towards her, something the human clearly didn’t understand any more than Sage herself did.

    Instead of answering right away, the human reached over to grab her glasses from the nightstand, blinking through her remaining sleepiness as she put them on.

    And immediately noticed Sage.

    The Phantump withdrew right back into the clinic’s main chamber with a panicky squeak, mind racing and only capable of thinking about returning to Yaksha’s protective presence. Which wasn’t an option right away, either.

    She remembered seeing the Blissey tend to the Banette yesterday, and a part of her was very glad to see her guardian getting more aid. The rest of her ended up even more skittish instead, especially with them likely noticing the frost burn on her face if they were to look up—

    They looked up.

    The Blissey’s immediate response was a drawn-out exhale, followed up by the loudest whisper Sage had ever heard in her life, aimed further into the clinic. On cue, one of the other healers, the Leavanny, peeked out from another side chamber further into the tent; their expression split equally between relief and exasperation.

    “S-sorry...” Sage muttered. She didn’t expect the Normal-type to chuckle at her words, taking her aback as the mantis approached, holding a small bowl. To the Phantump, it looked like just some yellowish paste, its purpose entirely unknown.

    And then, moments later, blissful relief from the leftover stinging as said paste was smeared around her frost burn. It felt so tingly, so… nice. She finally floated back onto the mattress right as the Blissey wrapped up her checkup on the still-asleep Yaksha. The combined kindness they were treated to made her feel even warmer. “Th-thank you so much!” she squeaked.

    A smile and a deep nod from the Blissey, moderate confusion from Leavanny, first at Sage and then at their coworker. Before the Normal-type could explain something to their coworker, the shuffle of the front entrance caught everyone’s attention instead.

    The Phantump squeaked at seeing the familiar Gardevoir step in, “Hi!”

    Aria answered with a curt wave, a small smile briefly replacing her concern. She didn’t stay long though, first stopping before the entrance of the human’s room, then taking a deep breath, and finally walking in with as much confidence as she could muster.

    Sage hoped she wasn’t afraid of the human, too.

    Anne was much less scared of the Phantump than she was surprised by it.

    The sight still made her jump, no doubt about that, but it didn’t leave any lingering dread behind itself. If anything, she found them and their skittishness funny in hindsight, especially with them sticking out right beneath the ceiling. The amusement didn’t last, though, not once she remembered where Phantump were supposed to come from.

    Dead little baby mons.

    The realization made her feel guilty for laughing, instead hoping that whoever they were, they didn’t get badly injured or anything. And that, of course, they felt just as safe here as Anne did. Despite the gregarious Decidueye in her room.

    ...

    In part, because of said Decidueye in her room, even.

    Anne knew little about Sprout beyond her name, but what she’d seen of her only painted her in a positive light. More smiles than the girl thought possible with a beak, frequent physical affection, much of it feeling surprisingly nice, and a constant effort to not appear intimidating. She didn’t know if the two were actually related, but if they were, it made sense where Blossom’s niceness had come from.

    Hopefully, the Dartrix would visit her again soon.

    rustle, rustle

    The sound of someone stepping into the room had Anne’s happy thoughts be replaced with even happier ones. A large smile crept to her face as she waved at the Gardevoir, “~G-good morning, Mrs. Aria!~”

    “^Good morning, Anne, Sprout. How are you doing?^” Aria’s response wasn’t as enthusiastic as Anne thought it’d be, but entirely positive all the same.

    “Mighty fine, Aria dear! Anne finally got some decent sleep in, didn’t ya, Anne?” Sprout teased.

    The human nodded eagerly at the Decidueye’s question, bringing a strained smile to the Gardevoir’s face.

    “^I’m very glad to hear. Still feeling awake, Sprout?^”

    “Yeah, I got an hour more or so in me. Thinking of leavin’ us alone again?”

    “^No, no... the opposite, if anything. I want to talk with Anne about something, and it’s... best kept private,^” Aria explained.

    Anne blinked in surprise, entirely lost about what could the Gardevoir be referring to.

    “Somethin’ private, eh?” Sprout chuckled. “No worries. Have a good day you two~! Gonna be a long one!”

    Oh, that it most certainly would be.

    Aria had to put in her utmost willpower to maintain the smile after Sprout’s parting words. At last, it was just her and the innocent, powerless human she swore to protect, entirely ignorant of what would await her later today—

    “~I saw a Phantump peek through the wall earlier. Do they live here?~” Anne asked.

    The girl’s question took Aria aback, providing a very needed, if equally fleeting, distraction. “^No, no. Her name is Sage. I ran into her and her guardian when on my patrol yesterday. I don’t know if they intend to stay here.^”

    The answer was sufficient, if not particularly deep. It wasn’t the part Anne was concerned about the most, though. Aria sounded so unlike herself, her usual calm voice so clearly strained. The human had no idea what had caused it and if she even could help, but she would still try all the same. “~Is something wrong, Mrs. Aria?~”

    This time, the smile didn’t quite endure the strain the Gardevoir’s mind put it under. She was worried that the sight alone would be enough to freak Anne out with its possible implications, but thankfully, it wasn’t. Instead, the girl shuffled over to the bed’s edge before sitting down on it and... patted a spot beside herself. It was undoubtedly a sweet gesture, one that would even come in handy with what she wanted to talk about.

    Assuming Anne wouldn’t want to run as far away from her as possible once she learned of her lies and the village’s cruelty.

    The possibility chilled her to the core; the mental image of Anne being as afraid of her as she was on the very first day here, but for much more justified reasons, was a deeply disconcerting one. At the same time, the girl grew more worried with every passing second of tense silence, pushing her guardian to finally act. And so; she sat down beside Anne, the human almost embracing her there and then. Aria wanted this; Aria didn’t deserve this. It could backfire so badly, but if it also could bring her some comfort in what was to come... “^G-go right ahead, Anne.^”

    Unsurprisingly, the reassurance only did so much to stem the quickly intensifying tension on both sides. Not unearned for either party, but entirely liable to make it all even worse than it already would be.

    Aria wasn’t ready at all, but she had to tackle it there and then. “^Anne... I have to tell you something.^”

    The girl’s embrace was tight and shaky, her bony body warm to the touch. Aria saw the plain desire for her one-armed hug to be returned right in Anne’s expression, but... couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not now, not then, not with something so deeply evil still unstated.

    The girl asked, distraught, “~Wh-wh-what is it, Mrs. Aria?~”

    Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It was time to come clean. Inhale, exhale. Inhale—“^There... there will be a vote about letting you stay later today.^”

    The fact took its sweet time worming its way into Anne’s mind; simple words and their consequences made it all the more difficult to process in the morning’s mental fog. Once they did, though, they brought with them a building avalanche of fear, the harrowing implications sparking a dozen more in an instant. “~D-do you mean that if they vote a-against me, I won’t be able to stay h-here?~”

    All Aria could do was confirm Anne’s suspicions with a somber nod, adding more fuel to the quickly growing fire of terror.

    “~W-wait, but where—where would I even go? Would I have to go b-back to my house a-and—No no no, please don’t, please don’t make me go back, anything but that, I-I—why are they v-voting against me!?~”

    Anne was hyperventilating by now; Aria left paralyzed about what to do to help without inadvertently making it any worse.

    “^Some—some have objections to you staying here,^” the Gardevoir explained. Anne’s burning follow-up question was clear to sense, even as her throat was struggling too much with words to vocalize it. “^Because... you are a human.^”

    Anne was panicking far too hard by that point to even speak, her entire body shaking as her mind tortured itself with the implications. Of course, nobody wanted her to stay here. She was just a monster to them, of the very species that made their life hell. Her presence here was clearly making so many uncomfortable and she’s been completely overlooking that for her own selfish sake.

    Everyone here must’ve gone through so much pain because of humanity, and here she was, pushing the envelope and begging for them to protect her from her own evil species. Of course she didn’t deserve it. Why would she deserve it; why would she be any different deep down from all the trainers, all the poachers, all the breeders? She wasn’t, she so obviously wasn’t, she deserved to be thrown out.

    Anne didn’t want it, but she deserved it.

    Aria’s arm hovered just above the girl’s other side, afraid to lower itself lest it would make her panic even harder. All this was the her fault, be it through her present words or past inaction, and she felt entirely powerless about how to stop it. Anything she did could’ve, likely would’ve, made it all even worse. Especially once Anne realized she’d lied to her about that very vote earlier. It was all her fault—

    Before the combined despair in the room could bring Aria to a panic attack of her own, Anne’s tight embrace snapped her right out of that perilous mental thread. The girl was clinging to her for her life, clinging to her for any and all protection she could get in this nightmarish situation, clinging to her with all the trust in the world, none of it feeling deserved by its recipient.

    Deserved or not, it was there all the same, and the least Aria could do was use it for reassurance. “^I... I don’t want to lie to you and can’t say it with certainty, but... me, Autumn, and others are doing all we can to make sure it won’t happen. I will be a part of the vote, as will Marco. We’ve been talking to others about it, asking those who would vote against to reconsider, and... I think it’s unlikely that you’ll be voted out.^”

    Aria’s calculated words didn’t have all the impact the Gardevoir hoped they would have, but that didn’t mean they were pointless either. Anne was still justifiably terrified; her body still shook against the psychic’s side, but... the worst of the fear began to wane. Aria gave the girl all the time she needed to process it all, finally returning her embrace in full. The faint tingling of her psychic skin was relaxing in its familiarity, even without a Calm Mind.

    Moment by moment, the terror waned into ‘just’ fear as Anne gathered words to speak again, trying her hardest to not break down once more. “~Wh-what will h-happen to me if I have to go? Where will I go—oh gods, what—what will happen to Ember? I-I don’t want her to suffer with me, but I don’t want to be alone either, it—it feels like I’ll die and—~”

    Despite her best efforts, Anne’s voice frayed once more, turning into a drawn out whine as she pressed her crying, suffering self into Aria’s side. Her life depended on it; she would die if she ended up being kicked out. Between her father, homelessness, and just being alone, she would die, she would die, she would die...

    “^I-I don’t know. I’m sorry, Anne,^” Aria whimpered. “^You don’t deserve any of this. I wish I had an answer; I wish I could say anything with certainty, but... I can’t. I already lied to you about this, and I apologize for that. I... understand if you won’t trust me again because of that, no matter what happens afterwards.^”

    The Gardevoir slowly raised her embracing arm away from Anne, not wanting her to feel trapped if she tried to hide from her again. Her terror was just like when she first realized just what Aria was, that she was a feral Gardevoir and not a healer human. But now, it was made so much more powerful by the vice of it being utterly justified and caused, in part, by Aria’s own inaction.

    Regardless of how pitiful Aria’s words were, they still knocked Anne’s despairing mind out of the worst of her panic. She was suffering, but so was Aria, and her words...

    The girl held her guardian even tighter in response, tears streaming down her face and Aria’s side alike. The Gardevoir was too surprised to even register the sensation of the glasses digging into her skin. Slowly, she lowered her hand once more, still avoiding touching the girl, lest it’d startle her. Moment by moment, the worst of her panic subsided again as she mumbled out, “~Wh-why wouldn’t I, M-Mrs. Aria?~”

    It was entirely unlike what the Gardevoir expected to hear, doubly so with her having just explained the very reason moments earlier. “^Because I lied to you. I told you that you’d be staying here for good, that everything would be alright, that,^” Aria flinched as she confronted the lie at the root of it all, the admission going so deeply against her innermost nature despite its piercing accuracy, “^that you were safe here. I’m sorry, Anne.^”

    The untruths hurt, but so did Aria’s own pain. The latter in particular gave Anne a surge of motivation to gather her composure, to provide at least a bit of reassurance to her guardian, even if she needed it, too. Her panic gave way to sadness as her shaking waned just enough for her to speak, “~sniff My-my grandma also lied to me like that. That I’d be staying with her for good, that everything would be alright, that—that I was safe now, and that I wouldn’t be hurt again. I-I get it. She just wanted me to be happy, j-just like you, and I still love her so much. It’s okay, I-I promise...~”

    The words burst a dam deep inside Aria’s mind, her pathetic self-pity overpowered by her innermost protective impulse. Anne was psychiced onto her lap in an instant as the Gardevoir embraced her tightly, as tightly as her weak physical body could muster, her own bitter tears running down her cheeks.

    “^I-I’m so sorry Anne. I’m sorry you had to lose that certainty, and I wish so much I could provide it like you deserve, like everyone deserves. I wish I could promise you that the vote will go well, that nothing bad will happen again, that you’re truly safe here, but—I don’t want to lie to you again...^”

    The two held each other in a tight, teary mess as they fought with their own and the others’ despair, its sheer volume enough to make Aria feel weak. Despite it, though, despite her own guilt in this, despite her own weaknesses... Aria wanted to be there for Anne. To be someone she could have utter trust in, someone she could rely on to protect her, to shelter her, to—to love her.

    “~I-I don’t blame you for l-lying, Mrs. Aria. I wanna believe that everything is g-going to be alright, but... I’m so scared. I don’t want to die...~” Anne whimpered.

    “^I-I know sweetie, and I wish I could say with certainty that nothing will happen to you. I’ll do absolutely everything in my power to make sure it won’t come to that, that much I can promise.^”

    Words alone mattered for so very little, and Aria was well aware of that fact. Despite that, they seemed to be enough for now, enough to at least let the human shake her fear of death off in the immediate moment. Enough for her to gradually calm down, breath by breath, to focus on something else than that absolute worst-case scenario. She was still scared, so scared now that the safety was no longer the guarantee Aria had previously portrayed it was, but... she would manage.

    Or at least, so she hoped.

    Their mutual embrace gradually loosened up with the absolute worst of their fear being behind them, letting Aria grab her bearings and Anne distract herself with something else in the room. With how sparsely it was decorated, there wasn’t all that much to focus on instead of her ever grim fears, the girl’s attention inadvertently ending up with the bags—bags with Mrs. Graham’s coat and her items in it of unknown origin. Anne spoke up, “~M-Mrs. Aria?~”

    The Gardevoir’s soft, tingly hand moved from stroking the side of Anne’s head to her cheek as she tried and failed to force the weakest of smiles onto her face. “^Yes, sweetie?^”

    “~I-I forgot to ask, wh-where did these bags come from? I think that’s Mrs. Graham’s c-coat...~”

    With a quick mental sweep of the nearby area to make sure there wasn’t any other non-Dark type scout in the vicinity, Aria took a deep breath. That one would be a mess to explain, but now more than ever, Anne deserved the entire truth. “^Do you remember when we first talked, and a Luxray ran into the room?^”

    “~Mhm. Th-they were really scary...~”

    “^Lumi’s a bit of a prick, yeah. He alerted me, because a human looking for you was making their way in our direction and we needed to stop them. That human turned out to be Olive, or I suppose, ‘Mrs. Graham’ as you know her.^”

    Anne gasped in surprise at the revelation, not expecting the elderly librarian of all people to undertake such a journey. “~W-was she alright!? She’s so old and...~”

    “^Yes, she was; Leo and Luxie made sure of it. We stopped her and ended up talking with her. She talked about you, about everything that had happened to you, and how she wanted to help. Lumi and I took her up on that offer, and she brought us to your house to take the items you had left behind.^”

    “~Th-that’s so kind of her...~”

    “^It really is.^” Aria smiled weakly, thinking back to their encounter with the old woman. “^She helped us tremendously with all the human things we didn’t understand. It was going well, but... eventually someone showed up. Your father.^”

    “~W-were you all alright—~”

    “^Yes we were, don’t worry, sweetie. He was an evil person and I’m so, so sorry that he had hurt you so much over the years.^”

    Anne nodded her way through the reassurance, breathing deeply into Aria’s front before a detail caught her attention, one she was unsure how to interpret. “~...was?~”

    Here we go.

    “^Yes, was. He attacked us, and I incapacitated him. Then, at some point later, when Olive was helping us by grabbing books for you... your house caught on fire. I don’t know how and if it had something to do with us, but... your father was still inside it when it happened. The entire building is gone now.^”

    Aria remained quiet afterwards, merely waiting for Anne’s reaction. The immediate shock was obvious and expected, but the Gardevoir could only hope that it wouldn’t become a seed for even further despair—

    “~Th-that’s... good. E-even if I end up on the streets, it means that I won’t have to go back there.~”

    The Gardevoir stared wide-eyed at Anne’s cold calculation of the situation. It was unlike the emotional girl, to an almost unsettling degree. For someone so obviously sensitive to others’ pain to act so detached when told someone burned to death, implied a lot about just how deeply evil said person was.

    Anne’s mind was gripped with cold, calculating focus, but Aria couldn’t say the same after the realization hit her. She didn’t comment out loud on it, merely holding the girl that much more tenderly and applying a weak, full-body telekinetic embrace just to make her feel that much safer here. Neither of them said much for a while as the human kept processing it all, eventually returning to her previous headspace with a shudder.

    Unfortunately, that wasn’t where the recollection of the excursion into the human village ended. Aria continued, “^After Olive was done helping us, I... I did something I agreed on previously, when me and others were discussing what to do with Olive. They wanted me to wipe her memories of us, to maintain our secrecy. I pretended to do it, and asked her and her friends to promise us they wouldn’t tell anyone of us, or of you being under our protection.^”

    As relieving as the last remark was, the topic the response had brought up immediately threw all the more fuel into the flames of Anne’s fear. She hadn’t even considered her memories might’ve been manipulated, and now that the subject had been breached, it was all she could think about. How could she even know if it had happened to her—

    “^Nobody has tampered with your memories Anne, I promise.^”

    The Gardevoir wanted to say more, say so much more. To reassure the girl that as long as she stood, she wouldn’t let anything like that ever come to her, that she wouldn’t ever hurt her the way Cinder had hurt Ember, but... could she even make that promise? What if it would truly come down to the worst possibility, what if the vote failed and her nightmare came true, what if she really had to violate her mind and surgically remove the only happiness the girl had known in so long just for their own selfish protection?

    Aria didn’t know, and it terrified her. She tried to explain, “^After what had happened to Ember, I doubt anyone else would be eager—^”

    The psychic’s sudden pause had startled Anne almost as much as the implication of something terrible having happened to Ember. Despite all the fear still writhing in her head, she had to know what Aria meant there, opening her mouth to speak—just in time for the vixen in question to shamble into the room, glistening tears flowing down her cheeks.

    “~E-Ember!~” Anne gasped.

    The Braixen dashed over to the pair before Anne could even slide off Aria’s lap, holding them both tight as soon as she could. The human wasted no time in shuffling on Aria’s lap so that her best friend could join her there and embrace her as tight as she could, which Ember immediately did. Aria kept watch of what was happening inside the fox’s mind, trying to figure out whether more horrible acts had happened overnight.

    And instead, only found the betrayal of yesterday, still hurting so intensely.

    In no time, the two girls were holding each other as tight as possible with the Gardevoir embracing them both, deeply wanting to protect them from any further harm. She rationally knew she was, but... would it ever be enough?

    Anne asked, distraught, “~E-Ember, wh-what happened?~”

    Aria might have already known the horrors the fox had experienced, but the human didn’t. Ember didn’t feel capable of answering either; telepathic and physical words alike failing to manifest, not with how tired and worn she was. As harrowing as it was, Anne deserved to know. And so, the Gardevoir asked, “^Would you want me to explain, Ember?^”

    The fox whimpered at Aria’s soft-spoken question, the realization of having been left out in something big until now unnerving Anne further. The Gardevoir couldn’t blame her either, just hoping that her explanation would prove sufficient and not inspire further despair—even if she knew the latter was almost entirely wishful thinking by now.

    After a few more attempts at telepathy that broke down within seconds, Ember finally gave up and leaned on Anne even harder, acknowledging Aria’s question with a single weak nod.

    Here goes nothing.

    “^Let me go over what happened to Ember during your absence, Anne. In short, Cinder, Ember’s adoptive mother, had erased her memories of you. It was only a couple of days ago that through Marco’s and Autumn’s intervention, did she restore them and remember you again. Yesterday evening, after you had gone to sleep, Cinder finally confessed to Ember about what she’d done.^”

    As much as Anne’s focus laid with comforting her friend to the fullest extent possible, the actions described still terrified her. Aria’s description of what had almost happened to Mrs. Graham was already scary, to hear that her best friend, someone she’d spent half her life with and loved more than anyone else on the planet, just didn’t remember her was...

    It was too much to imagine.

    The last of Anne’s restraints was broken, plunging her into full-blown weeping as she clung to Ember and Aria alike. She was so sorry for Ember; she wanted to comfort her so much, but deep down, she was terrified. Indescribably terrified of that possibility, of being made to forget her best friend, of having nobody to live for, of being left alone with no memory of this place, of Ember, maybe even of her grandma. She just wanted to live and be safe; why were people so mean, human and mon alike? She had done nothing to earn all that pain, and neither had her friend!

    Aria’s arms shook as she inadvertently eavesdropped on Anne’s pain and terror, feeling more powerless than ever. Regardless of how truthful she was, regardless of how hard she’d tried to protect her and ensure that the horrors she was imagining wouldn’t come to pass... there still was a chance they would, after all. That despite all her efforts, two innocent children would still be inflicted with unspeakable pain because of others’ paranoia.

    By her hand, no less.

    Would she ever be able to live with herself if that came to pass? With the knowledge that she was the executioner of two lives that had already experienced so much suffering? Aria didn’t know, and the more she thought about it, the more uncertain she was about that most harrowing of outcomes. Another nightmare, one without the blissful escape of waking up.

    If that worst-case scenario came to pass, if she refused to fight for their safety beyond the confines and rules of the council vote, if she yielded to hurt and injustice because to do otherwise would be to invite more trouble for herself…

    Would she really be any better than Cinder?​

    The thought snapped something deep inside Aria.

    Her innermost nature, the drive to protect others, the part of herself that made her a Gardevoir, it had enough. It reached out from the root of her brain and grasped her head, subsuming all other thoughts with a grip of freezing clarity. Incomparably more effective than any Calm Mind, especially as it arrived at the obvious solution to all their terror, and held the two scared girls tighter.

    “^I will not let that happen again.^”

    Something she could promise, something she had to promise, something Anne and Ember alike deserved from her. A gambit that was likely to backfire in so many ways, but simultaneously her only real option. She continued, “^When we first spoke, Anne, I promised you that this would be your home until you had somewhere to go. And I’m intending to keep that promise for both of you, no matter what the council says.^”

    The sudden, unflinching conviction in the Gardevoir’s words took Anne aback, startling her out the worst of her loathing, especially with what they implied. She was used to promises that would eventually falter. They were only normal, but Aria clearly meant hers in a very deep way, her telepathy having gained an imposing, downright commanding tone. Ember was similarly surprised; the girls’ focus squarely on the Gardevoir as they chewed through what Aria’s words really meant.

    They wanted them to be true, but... “~W-wouldn’t you get in trouble?~” Anne asked, worried. “~I-if everyone w-wants me gone, then they won’t like you keeping me anyway...~”

    “^Then they’ll have to take you over my dead body.^”

    “~N-no! I-I don’t want you to get hurt like that. E-especially not for me, you shouldn’t, I-I’ll toughen it out, I—~”

    “^Anne.^”

    Aria’s calm, yet imposing voice stopped the human’s panicking train of thought dead in its tracks, the entirety of her attention drawn up to the Gardevoir. “^I can do it. You were terrified of my strength when we first properly met, and what’s a better reason to use it than to protect someone?^”

    “~I... I just don’t want you getting hurt because of me. I don’t want others having to h-help me again because of my fault—~”

    “^But this is not your fault. You have done nothing wrong, Anne.^”

    “^Y-y-yeah!^” Ember woofed, her affirmation only redoubling Anne’s shaking embrace as worries continued to bubble inside her head.

    “^If the absolute worst comes to pass, if this village and its people would rather sentence you to death and Ember to further suffering, to where they’d rather set out to harm me than let you live, then I’ll know with certainty that this is no longer the village I settled in all those years ago. That it has been deeply rotten since then, that it has overgrown with the same injustice it seemed to escape from. I will be glad to leave it.^”

    “~B-but what about y-your family?~” Anne whimpered.

    Now that was a harder question to answer. Harder, but not impossible.

    “^They will understand. We’ve all been trying to help you however we can, and none of us will sit by idly while the council tries to leave you out to die. If it takes uprooting ourselves to keep you two safe, then that’ll simply be what it takes.^”

    The unflinching conviction in Aria’s words and tone didn’t leave Anne much room to argue. An ironclad shield of cold certainty, contrasting her usual warm shroud of comfort. Something the girls needed so much more in the moment, something still worrisome to consider despite that.

    Both of them wanted it to be true. Both of them wanted that utter conviction that things will be alright no matter what, something that life already took from Anne once and from Ember twice; their souls hungered for it, and yet... “~A-are you sure, M-Mrs. Aria? I-I’m just some stranger human, we haven’t even talked that much...~”

    “^Isn’t that what anyone with a shred of heart would do? An injured child out in the cold, about to bleed and freeze to death. Why wouldn’t I do what I can to save you?^”

    As opposed to the last time Anne heard these words, her mind didn’t reach towards judging their truthfulness. Everything she’d heard and felt from the Gardevoir made her unable to doubt the utmost certainty in her plan, scary as it was. No, instead, her worries reached inward. Was she even worthy of so many people having to do so much just to protect her miserable, unimportant self—

    “^Y-you’re n-not unimportant!^” Ember’s shaky telepathy cut in, melting through Anne’s self-doubt as the vixen held her tighter. Held, and wept, “^I-I want you to be happy Anne, a-and so does Mrs. Aria! I know it’s a lot, b-but... could you do it f-for me?^”

    It took Anne’s entire composure to not break down there and then again as she looked the vixen in the eye, her tearful, pleading expression hitting her even harder than the mental words. Aria wasn’t any more willing to mess with the girl’s mind now than she was in the past, but... she had an idea that could help.

    The Gardevoir let go of the Braixen as she reached an arm around them both, leaving her hand facing up beside them.

    Ready to be grasped.

    The intent was obvious, as was the patience in Aria’s expression. Bit by bit, she felt the icy grip from earlier wane. The certainty it brought remained, but not without warmth this time.

    Anne kept struggling with her emotions, simultaneously wanting the utter safety Aria promised and finding herself unworthy of its price. She had no idea what to do, feeling paralyzed in a struggle with her own doubt and loathing.

    This time, however, she wasn’t alone. Ember’s warm paw grasping the side of her hand took Anne out of her mute conflict, glasses-clad eyes refocusing on the fox’s expression. Still tearful, still pleading, but now with a much clearer intent and a weak smile, framed by tears.

    “^D-do you trust me, Anne?^” Ember asked, her mental voice barely a whisper and utterly eclipsing everything in the human’s mind simultaneously.

    Despite how much she struggled with what she should think about herself... what she thought about Ember, and her love for her, was very clear. “~Y-yes, I do, Ember.~”

    The vixen nodded, her shaky smile growing larger. Her paw slowly dragged Anne’s hand towards Aria’s waiting hand. A part of Anne wanted to withdraw it, to reject this insanity, to accept what a part of her felt like she deserved—but the part of her that knew what she desired held the reins for just long enough for her hand to touch the Gardevoir’s.

    Silken smooth, almost electric to the touch. Feeling like it could protect her against the entire world. Emanating an odd, emotional warmth. Safety. Refuge.

    Love.

    “^It’s okay Anne, you’re safe. Take as much time as you need.^”

    Even without the Gardevoir’s more explicit aid, Anne felt her body and mind alike gradually calm down with each passing moment. The fear, the panic, the utter despair of her life being on the line, all of those faded away, bit by bit. She didn’t have to fear; she didn’t have to panic, her life wasn’t on the line.

    She felt safe again.

    By then, Aria had returned to normal, holding both girls’ hands as she chewed through just what she’d promised. The more she thought, the more she worried that the pressure of it all would make her buckle, that she’d shatter under the possibility of it all... the more confident she felt. She searched her mind far and wide for any doubt, for any hesitancy, for any selfish desires that would overpower her wish for Anne’s safety should the worst come to pass, and found none.

    Doubly so with how unrealistic that absolute worst-case scenario was.

    She’d known the rest of the council for years, and none of them felt like the sort that would put their own life at risk and fight her just for needless bloodshed. Granted, if this entire mess had shown anything, it was that many of said group were willing to dispose of any morals when it came to dealing with humans, but… she still hoped that seeing the living person they would sentence as opposed to an abstract human out there at the clinic would sway them.

    Her conviction made sure she wouldn’t have to rely on hope, but having some of it on hand wouldn’t hurt, either. “^How are you feeling, Anne?^” she asked, her mental voice back to normal.

    The weary girl perked up at that welcome change, her answer as simple as it was truthful, “~I’m... I-I think I’m okay. I... th-thank you, Aria.~”

    “^You’re very welcome, sweetie.^”

    Aria’s steadily growing smile was soon matched by a weaker, but just as genuine one on Anne’s face. Even despite all the reassurance and promise, though, the Gardevoir seemed it fit to put the whole situation in its proper context again. “^And, again, all what I’ve described is the very worst-case scenario. One that I’m rather sure won’t come to pass.^”

    The two girls nodded in unison at the affirmation, the calmness letting them absorb that reassurance much more effectively. “~Wh-when will that vote happen?~” Anne asked.

    “^In the evening, after sundown. I... forgot to mention something important about it earlier, I apologize.^”

    Anne blinked as she leaned closer on the Gardevoir, more curious than worried. “~Oh?~”

    “^One elder requested that you be present for it. You’d be with me the entire time. I don’t know why she asked for you to be there, and I don’t like it either. Don’t feel forced to agree, I can figure something out if you’d rather—^”

    “~I-I can go.~”

    There was a bit of uncertainty in Anne’s voice, one she was trying her hardest to fight through. Yes, she was uncertain; yes, she didn’t like it; yes, she’d rather not, but—she would be there with Aria. And nothing bad would happen with Aria watching over her.

    The Gardevoir only barely held her tears in at sensing that thought, deeply hoping it would be earned this time. “^Th-thank you, Anne. No matter what she’s planning, I imagine that your presence there will help in other ways. One would hope it’ll be harder for them to vote for someone’s exile if they have to see that someone.^”

    “~Y-yeah, heh...~” Anne chuckled, cementing her truly feeling better in Aria’s mind. The Gardevoir closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths; tried to process through all that just happened—

    Only for the girl to let go of her hand and hug her as tight as she could once more, Ember following in tow. This time, with no more fear, no more doubt, only gratitude, confidence, and...

    Love.

    “~Thank you for wanting to protect me, Aria,~” Anne whispered.

    Aria joined in on the group embrace, gently stroking both girls’ backs as the trio gathered their bearings. “^Thank you for giving me another chance, Anne.^”

    Despite everything, despite all the pain, despite all the fear, for once even Aria could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Should the worst come to pass, being forced to leave their village wouldn’t be a happy outcome, but would be incomparably better than having to be the enforcer of its cruelty. Plenty terrifying in its own way, but... they would all figure it out, no matter what.

    Aria was sure of it.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 22: Solace

    • Chapter 22: Solace​


    Autumn had no idea how her daughter-in-law was managing while having to carry so much weight on her shoulders.

    The Indeedee sighed under her breath, pondering in silence with only her shawl and a freshly grabbed breakfast to accompany her. Yesterday was intense despite her not having anywhere near as much of a role in all this as Aria, intense enough to lead her to take today off from her usual duties. The little ones would get taught in time; one session of practicing Protects under her watch wouldn’t doom anyone. Which—

    bang!

    The muffled, distant sound jolted Autumn upright, briefly snapping her out of her previous thoughts. She could’ve sworn she heard a familiar grunt accompanying it shortly afterwards, worrying her a fair bit. If nothing else, it was a good idea to check up on just what had happened there before resuming her original plan.

    Now, where was she at?

    One day without her watch wouldn’t doom the village’s little ones, but the same couldn’t really be said for Anne, especially if Aria really came clean with all her white lies. None of which Autumn could blame her for, none of which she hoped Anne would blame her for in the long run either, but still damaging once they were forcibly revealed.

    Or even before then, if what Garret had described of the Gardevoir’s sudden awakening and the following discussion was any sign. No matter how Anne would react to Aria’s honesty, she would need someone there with her afterwards more than ever, and Autumn was more than willing to provide all the comfort needed. And then some.

    Ember’s whereabouts were much more of an enigma. By the time the elderly psychic woke up, the lil’ fox was gone despite spending most of the preceding night huddling tight next to her. Hardly easy to sleep beside such an intense, emotional warmth, but Autumn made it work, mostly by tossing the entirety of her usual array of blankets into the far corner.

    The Indeedee just hoped the Braixen had run over to Anne once she woke up. Their bond, the little of it Autumn got to sense for herself directly, felt as unbreakable as the one between herself and Garret. Of course they would be each other’s greatest comfort. It was by far the most logical place for the fox to have ended up at. But at the same time, with what had happened with Cinder still fresh in her memory... the entire topic sent shivers down her body.

    Shivers that she then used to shake the whole unpleasant strand of thought well off. Her fretting like this wouldn’t do anyone any good; if Ember really was already with Anne at the clinic, then she’d be seeing both of them in not too long, anyway. There, a much better subject to focus on instead.

    Autumn knew it wouldn’t be easy to find something to relax or at least distract Anne from the upcoming vote with all the stress and fears likely to be going through her body, but there were still options. She could tell stories, be it with young Garret or even from her own childhood; she could curiously ask about the parts of the human world that were unlikely to tie into the girl’s traumatic past; she could just provide a ton of physical comfort. Anything to ease this terrible load—the kind that nobody ever ought to have to struggle with.

    And especially not a child.

    The Indeedee was in equal parts split between wanting and very much not wanting to run into either of the three elders on her way to the clinic. Calling them out on what they were doing was earned and justified, and she doubted she would’ve been able to stop herself from giving Ana and especially Celia a piece of her mind if they crossed paths, but it sure wouldn’t help with the upcoming vote.

    This wasn’t like them, this shouldn’t have been like them. They both used to be so caring of those who couldn’t care for themselves back when Orion was still around, and now...

    The bitter realization stung even more than Autumn thought it would, forcing her to stop in her tracks and wrap herself tighter. So much has changed since that shocking news broke out of nowhere, and Autumn wished she could say it was mostly for the better.

    sigh

    No matter what, this was where they were at now. Regardless of how much the people she used to look up to had changed, for bad or worse, her and her family’s goal remained the same. They could do it, Autumn was sure of it.

    Just as she was sure she could piece together what had happened on the scene she’d just walked into.

    Mikiri’s latest attempt at replicating the human two-wheel laid in front of the wall of Holly’s kitchen, its front wheel somewhere between heavily bent and outright split in half. The ‘T’-shaped part above it also appeared damaged, but Autumn didn’t know the original device well enough to diagnose what exactly had happened to it.

    There was an odd-looking, black smudge on the wall, at around the wheel’s height. Above it, a rather sizable crack spanning several bricks.

    And in front of it, Ori was busy wrapping a second bandage around Mikiri’s forehead, on top of the now blood soaked first one.

    “I don’t get this weird contraption!” the Mawile ranted, “I tweaked the pedals, moved the handle within reach, reinforced all the parts I could weld more metal onto and it worked for a while!”

    “What about braking?”

    “Yeah, that’s the thing, Ori! I’ve been fumbling with every part of this thing and there’s just nothing that helps you stop!”

    The Mawile expressed her annoyance at the inanimate object with spirited gestures, while her co-tinkerer made sure she wouldn’t bleed out in the middle of a rant. A slightly closer look let Autumn spot a pair of long wooden blocks attached to the parts where human feet would’ve presumably rested at, as well as what largely appeared as assorted clumps of metal welded onto the frame at what looked like random.

    And right as she took one more step, she finally spotted someone else beside the Steel-type duo.

    “Whiiiich is why I asked Ori to fetch ya, Geiger. Thanks for swinging along!” Mikiri greeted.

    Geiger tipped his head at the Fairy-type as he responded in kind, “Howdy, Mikiri. This, uh... doesn’t look pretty.”

    “I grabbed bandages first,” Ori added, voice even flatter than normal.

    “Dunno why; I was fine. Anywho anywho Geiger—do you have any idea how this dumb thing comes to a stop? You used to hang around a lotta humans, right?”

    The elderly Electivire stroked his cheek as both he and the Magnemite attached to his arm inspected what could be very generously described as a heavily modified bike. His memories were hardly the most helpful on the spot. “Yes, I have, and I’ve seen a few of these in my time. Never at the moment to see how they came to a stop, though. Or I suppose even if I had, I must’ve forgotten about it since. Out of everyone working at the facility, only a few guys used these bikes, most stuck to cars—”

    “What’s a car?” Mikiri perked up at the unfamiliar term. Her maw parted slightly in excitement at there being more human-made locomotion machines out there, and the Scizor beside her groaned at some of his freshly applied bandage slipping off the Mawile’s head because of her sudden movements.

    “Oh, that’s its own kind of contraption! The size of a small hut, moves around on four or more wheels, all metal and with room inside for at least five humans or so. Though I’ve seen many be even larger than that.”

    As if a switch had flicked, Mikiri’s new tinkering wish was changed in an instant from ‘another undamaged two-wheel that she could actually take apart bit by bit’ to ‘the mysterious car’. “Are they just out there? How many of these ‘cars’ are around? How do they move? Do you also pedal them like these two-wheels or is it the same glowy stuff you’ve described in the past—”

    “Mikiri,” the Scizor interrupted.

    “What?”

    “Focus please, I ought to be going soon.”

    “Oh right right, that ‘scouting’ thing you also do sometimes.”

    The Scizor rolled his eyes at that framing, lifting his pincers up to bury his face into them at the thought of all the mess that today would entail. Instead, though, he found his arm being yanked off to the side, sticking over to the magnet with a grating ‘clunk’, much to Geiger’s immediate laughter. “Seems you’ve made a friend, eh, Ori?”

    Geiger’s words made the Mawile finally look up from the freshly created mess and structural damage of her own creation, and up at the expert she’d called over shortly prior. Mikiri wasn’t ever the best at remembering specific details about people, but she could’ve sworn that the Electivire didn’t use to have someone else with him there. Which meant that they had to come from somewhere.

    “Geiger! Where’s the magnet from?”

    Mikiri’s chipper question caught the Electric-type’s attention right as he was finishing prying Ori and the lil’ magnet apart the hard way, leaving Ori reeling backwards once his accidental bond finally came undone. “This lil’ fella? Nobody’s all too sure, but we think it was likely that nearby human pit of a town—” he paused, realizing why the Fairy-type was asking about that. Much to the little one’s sanity, he shut her off before she could start badgering them with questions, “—but they’re too young to talk, anyway. I doubt they’ve seen much of anything that could’ve been of interest to you.”

    The Mawile went from opening her mouth to speak to folding her arms with a grumpy expression in a split second, left grumbling to herself afterwards. With no further leads, there really wasn’t much she could do but to drag this pile of junk back to her burrow, fix whatever she could, and keep drilling holes in the recent human’s two-wheel with her intense staring, hoping to crack its mysteries.

    Or... there was another thing she could do. The realization brought a crooked smile to Geiger’s face as the impromptu gathering prepared to all start leaving, his remark catching the entirety of attention of both Steel-types, “Well, this one doesn’t know, but Anne likely has an idea about how you’re supposed to stop these things.”

    Even from her distant vantage point, Autumn felt the resulting shift of emotion extremely clearly. Disappointment turned into excitement, and annoyed relief became a veritable wallop of uncomfortable stress, both at right around the same instant.

    “Good call. Ya think I could go and get that dealt with right away? Heard about her being awake now or something,” Mikiri perked up.

    “I’d advise against that with the human’s uncertain state.”

    “Whaddya mean by ‘uncertain’? Gah fine, whatever, just let me know when she’s done finally being settled so I can go and pick her brain all about this and everything else—do you have any idea how much junk I’ve got piling around that I just have no idea what it does and have passed using it for some good scrap because of it!?”

    Ori blinked, bewildered. “‘Settled’?”

    The two Steel-types stared at each other in total disconnect, their shared confusion intense enough for neither to notice a small drop of rusty blood that snuck out from underneath Mikiri’s bandages and flowed down her nose. “Yea, settled. Y’know, didn’t Aria say she was gonna be keeping her or something in that burrow of theirs? Figured they’re all busy doing that right now. Maybe I could go and knock on their door to bother them about it. Can’t be hoarding all that secret human knowledge to themselves, ha!”

    “...yer bleeding, Mikiri,” Geiger chimed in.

    “Still!? Oh gimme that!”

    Without waiting for Ori’s response, the Mawile hopped in place just barely high enough to grab the rest of the bandages in his grasp. Her technique wasn’t any more skilled or effective than the Scizor’s patented ‘looks fine enough’ style, but at least it was faster. “Ya tongue rusted, Ori?” she teased.

    “The human isn’t in the process of being settled,” the Scizor explained.

    “Why not? Don’t tell me they’re keeping her in that stuffy clinic room forever. Having to spend one night there was already much too long.”

    “That hasn’t been settled yet. Today’s scout council meeting will seek to decide on the human’s fate.”

    “Oh, fuckin’ come on,” Mikiri whined. The mild profanity was accompanied by a couple more grunts and the most undignified bandage bow to have ever existed, tied awkwardly on top of her front head. “Whatdya mean, ‘not decided’!? Imagine how helpful with all the human tech she could be! We’ve both heard all the rumors about the things their contraptions can do—Geiger there was that thing with having fresh water and electricity everywhere, right?”

    “In almost every single one of their buildings, correct.”

    “And all the control over electricity they have, and how they make light from it and use it in their devices! OH and that way to weld metal without Fire Fanging! C’mon, I know you’d LOVE that Oriiii!”

    The Scizor was now firmly in the territory of ‘very uncomfortable’, anxiously looking all over the scene except at the very fairy presently grilling him. Some of these would indeed be very helpful, especially the more precise tools they’ve heard rumors about humanity having access to.

    However, it’s not like there weren’t any concerns and counterarguments to be raised. “I find it difficult to imagine a simple child knowing much about most of these.”

    “Even just a little guidance helps! Just somewhere to point us to and get us started, and let us figure stuff out afterwards! C’mon, you’d love it!” she pleaded.

    “Mikiri has a point, Ori~.”

    The Electivire didn’t need to say much to have the discussion work out heavily in his favor all the same, merely teasing the Scizor as needed. The Mawile knew the metal bug better than anyone else, and the Electric-type thanked whoever was watching for the oftentimes chaotic tinkerer bringing help towards Anne’s cause.

    Still, Ori insisted, “That is a very nearsighted way of thinking, Mikiri. The security risks because of the human’s presence here cannot be ignored.”

    “Oh, give me a break—if it was really this bad they all would’ve already tossed her over to other humans to deal with and all of y’all would be patrolling our perimeter every single walking minute. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to just stand there being a wet rag.”

    “I-I told you I should be going.”

    “If it was that serious you’d be running already and not waiting for this conversation to die down first either~.”

    Ori’s drawn-out, metallic sigh was his only answer, the Scizor unable to come up with any convincing response to his co-tinkerer’s words.

    “Get real, Ori,” Mikiri chuckled. “You want more help with figuring out all the human tech, don’t you?”

    “...perhaps.”

    “Now we’re talkin’.”

    “Make sure your actions later today reflect that, Ori,” Geiger minded.

    Despite some points of the discussion slipping into one ear and out the other, Autumn found it remarkably uplifting overall. Especially when considering Aria’s previous tension about the Steel-type scout. If Mikiri and Geiger really just managed to get Ori on board, that meant they had the seven votes needed to ensure Anne’s safety.

    Of course, the Indeedee knew all too well that this was only the absolute minimum of reassurance. That they ought to and would keep on pushing harder, trying to sway people’s opinion, anything to make her safety not just likely, but certain. Still, even this little helped so much, relieving a lot of painful pressure in her shoulders, making her immediately feel several years younger.

    Geiger wasn’t done talking yet, however. “Now that we’re done with that... I actually had a question for you two.”

    The uncertain tone had Autumn stop mid step, curious enough to hear him out before continuing her march.

    “Do... either of you have any thoughts about romantic relations?” he asked. The Indeedee went from interested to momentarily stunned, listening in as closely as she could with her psychics and ears alike as he elaborated, “By which I mean, any ideas about how to discern genuine interest from simple infatuation? I used to think none of this sort of stuff was for me, nowhere near, and now I’m... you could say I’m reconsidering. Just wanting a second opinion on a subject I’m unfamiliar with, is all.”

    Despite threatening to catch on fire from all the blush on her cheeks, Autumn kept listening on all her senses. The initial response, to the best of her ability to tell, was... a profoundly confused silence, from both Steel-types. Not the sort of confusion that came from not understanding the words being spoken, but a much deeper, more thorough kind.

    “...What?” Mikiri squeaked.

    The words made sense, but didn’t translate into anything either of the two were even remotely familiar with.

    “Uh, nevermind. Hope your duties go well today.”

    Geiger’s departure made the Indeedee leave for real, fluster mixing with barely held in giggling at the tinkerers’ reaction. Hardly the best crowd to be asking for romantic advice, and she knew the Electivire knew that too, but she sure didn’t expect them to just be completely unable to respond. Could be they’ve never loved anyone romantically; could be they never would. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it still amused her greatly.

    She really needed a chuckle like that.

    The elderly psychic finished cooling off after all that, just in time for her to run into some more close faces, each bringing a smile to her face. Sure, Marco was too busy in his chatting to respond with anything beyond a simple wave, but it only made sense considering who he was talking to. He’d mentioned last night that he’d be trying to talk to Lumi the next day, and based on Aria’s experiences, Autumn couldn’t imagine that being a pleasant ordeal in the slightest.

    Or that it’d leave both of them as nervous as they were.

    However much concern that sight might’ve inspired in her, it was swiftly washed off in just a moment after she turned another corner. “Good morning, Garret!”

    She neither had to ask, nor was she opposed in the slightest to her son lifting her up and sitting her on his shoulder for a while as they chatted, the silly antics always making them both laugh. “Hi mom! The kids were still waking up the last I saw them, and figured that I could leave them safely after blowing the fire out.”

    “Mhm~! Did you wait until the stew was done boiling?”

    “Yes, yes I did, mom...”

    The exasperation had the Indeedee giggle as she leaned over closer to her son, around his pointy ear. “Good! Any plans for today?”

    “I brought up trying to talk to Max yesterday, and I’m still planning to go through with that.”

    Undoubtedly a good idea, and Autumn was sure of that. But... a part of her doubted how much good could actually come from doing that. She couldn’t recall seeing the Meowstic around ever since the news of Anne being in their village spread out on a second thought, the realization chilling her deeply. Of course she couldn’t; why would he do that considering his history with humanity?

    That still didn’t make throwing Anne away just to keep one person comfortable an ethical idea, of course.

    Talking to likely the most traumatized one by all this would need to happen, eventually. However, the Indeedee doubted whether Garret was the best candidate for that. He was gregarious and friendly, sure, but she worried that any such attempt to chat would only come off as trying to pressure him to support the human whose arrival sparked all this. Which... yeah, it kinda was.

    sigh

    The things they all had to do to ensure her safety. “I hope it goes well, Garret, though I am a bit... worried.”

    “I get it, mom, but I think I know how to approach it all!”

    Just had to trust her son, and that much she could do. “I hope so, sweetie.”

    With one last embrace, followed by being lowered back onto the ground, Autumn was on her way once more. The clinic was just right ahead, forcing the Indeedee to pause and properly clear her head before proceeding further. Worries or not, Anne needed comfort most of all, and not someone who was as concerned as she herself likely was—

    “Auuuutumn!” Lavender’s old, creaky voice caught her attention, signaling a perfect opportunity to cleanse her mind just like that.

    She knew much better than to wait for the Grass-type to slowly amble her way over, scooting up to her instead and speaking up right away. “Good morning, Lavender! Got some good news?”

    “Pleeeenty. The huuuuman’s shawl is gooooing well! Ready eeeeeven tomorrow!”

    As incredibly fast as that was in a vacuum, a bit of Autumn’s heart stung at the realization that even that pace could end up being too slow in the end. “That’s wonderful; thank you so much.”

    “Aaaaanytime! Soool finally sloooowed down and left some fluff! Once I’m done with the huuuman’s, then I’ll fix Embeeeeer’s! I remember it being wooorn out in places, and I want to chaaaange it to match with huuuuman’s better!”

    Autumn only listened to the news with one ear, the rest of her constantly trying to calm herself down ahead of seeing Anne again. “Sounds like you got a good plan, then.”

    “I’ve beeeeen wondering wheeere she is. I knooooocked on her den today, and sheeeee wasn’t home!”

    The remark brought another unnerving thought to Autumn’s mind, one arguably much more likely than her earlier fretting. “D-did anyone answer?”

    “Yeeeees! Ciiiinder looked awful and diiiidn’t tell me much, but sheeeee answered! Since when do Fiiiiire-types cryyyy?”

    The Indeedee sighed in relief at the confirmation of the fox having not run away again, though what followed left a foul taste in her mouth. As much as the elderly Lilligant slowly chuckled to herself at her own joke, Autumn didn’t really like it, especially at what she saw of Ember the day she and Anne reunited.

    “I think they always could cry, really. I have to be going now, unfortunately.”

    “Nooooo worries! Soon both girls will be all nicely warm and swaddled, I tell yaaaa!”

    With the attempted distraction tactic proving unsuccessful, it forced Autumn to go about it the most manual, hard way as she stepped into the clinic’s main chamber. One deep breath, another, then a third still. Things would be alright eventually, and the most she could do for Anne right now was to be a source of comfort for her after all that she’s been through. They’d figure out everything else in time, she was sure of it—

    eeeeeeeeeee!

    The elated squeak coming from her right barely caught Autumn’s attention at first, though that changed the instant she realized it was aimed very specifically at her. Its source was obvious, hovering above the bed next to the far wall, their eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing her poor ol’ self. She knew very little about Phantump in general, and that went triple for this little one in particular.

    It was their first time running into each other; she didn’t even know their name, and yet... her presence made them oddly happy. They must’ve just liked Indeedee, she supposed? Weird, but preferences like these were hardly unusual in the grand scheme of things—for better or worse.

    Odd as it was, she waved back, especially since they were clearly a child. Even more excited glee wasn’t what she expected to see or feel in response, but hardly surprising considering their sheer adoration for her. Their waving was... clumsy; arms flailed as if unused to being this small. The Banette sharing a hospital bed with them was just as surprised at all this as Autumn. Their eventual grumble finally made the Phantump float down beside them and ease out into giddy squirming instead.

    Autumn sure didn’t expect to see any of this, but couldn’t deny that it made her feel much better. Just what she needed right now.

    With one last breath, she stepped into Anne’s room, the sight considerably better than what she feared. Aria sat on the bed’s edge, with both Anne and Ember on her lap in a warm, tight hug. The Indeedee didn’t want to interrupt the moment by speaking, but her arrival alone was enough to make the cuddly bundle separate after several minutes of silence.

    Aria was the first to break up the silence, “^Good morning, mom.^”

    “^Hello there sweeties. Are you all alright?^”

    ‘Alright’ was a very tricky term, especially with all three having clearly cried just recently and Anne in particular looking like she was still on the edge of tearing up again.

    “~H-hello Mrs. Autumn. I think I’m okay,~” Anne answered, her voice quiet and tired, immediately prompting another embrace from the fox sitting beside her once Aria had finished moving them both off her lap. The warm hug, and the resulting chuckles, did wonders for everyone present, especially as the girl tried her hardest to return the affection afterwards.

    And in the meantime... the Gardevoir had a confession to make, in private. “^Mom, I... I promised her she’d be safe with us, no matter what the vote decides.^”

    “^Yeah, of course.^”

    Autumn’s nonchalant response had Aria raise her eyebrow way high. Her mother-in-law clearly wasn’t getting the full implications of such a promise. “^Even if it requires us to uproot ourselves and leave this village to keep her safe.^”

    “^Well... I doubt it’ll come to that even in the worst case, but if that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes,^” the Indeedee responded, shrugging.

    Aria didn’t respond for a few moments, busy sorting through thoughts in her mind and trying not to laugh out loud at such a ridiculous, and yet entirely correct, answer. “^I didn’t expect you to take it so lightly, mom.^”

    “^Why wouldn’t I? If that’s the only way to ensure her safety, then that’s that.^”

    “^What about Cadence and Bell? What about Marco?^”

    “^Me and Garret survived on our own long before this village’s existence. We’ll sure as hell make it in an entire group like that.^”

    “^I-I meant—wouldn’t that be cruel to them?^”

    “^Sure, but it’s not us inflicting that cruelty on them. If your dumb council’s vote forces us to decide between Anne’s safety and your kids’ friends and stability, then that’s their fault. Besides, I sure doubt that Cadence in particular would take well the realization of her comfort having been prioritized above Anne’s entire life...^”

    That last idea sent a freezing chill through Aria’s horns, as well as really making her want to hold her biological daughter close. Alas, no time for that until way later in the day, if not until after all the nightmare had been decided. Nothing the Gardevoir couldn’t deal with, of course, but... goodness could she use some of that right now. Would help with her arms shaking as much as they already did.

    “^I really hope that after all this is over you’ll take some time off for yourself, sweetie,^” Autumn sighed, concerned.

    “^If I get a chance—^”

    “^Nah, just do it. Your scout bunch can manage on their own without your presence there, I’m sure of it. If all this works out, if Anne ends up safe, promise me you’ll give yourself the time you need to recover, Aria. Both for her, and much more importantly, for yourself. You can’t keep going with so much stress in you forever, sweetie.^”

    Aria wasn’t exactly confident about agreeing, but went ahead and limply nodded her head, anyway. “^I’ll try.^”

    “^Good, good. Now, have a good day Aria, and please keep yourself grounded until the vote, alright?^”

    “^I-I’ll try mom, promise.^”

    “^Love ya, Aria.^”

    “^Love you too, mom.^”

    With one last telepathic hug, the Gardevoir was finally on her way, leaving Autumn alone in the room with the pair of weary, tired girls. One of which had already lost her fight against her exhaustion, resting on her friend in a gentle, one-armed embrace.

    “^Holding up well, Anne?^” the Indeedee asked, upbeat mental voice piercing the gloomy atmosphere. She lifted herself onto the bed with her green psychics, sitting down beside Anne.

    The girl answered, “~I think so, M—Autumn.~”

    “^Heheh, if you’d really prefer using ‘Mrs.’ every time, then sure, go ahead. I just told you that you didn’t have to.^”

    “~I-I know, it’s just... h-how I’m used to when talking to adults. I’ve always had to use either ‘Mr.’ or ‘Mrs.’ with everyone, and it just... comes naturally to me,~” Anne explained.

    “^Nobody else you could talk with in a more natural way?^”

    “~Not since my grandma, n-no...~”

    All the Indeedee could offer was comfort, and that’s what she did shortly after. Her shorter stature made it hard to hold too much of the girl’s body, especially with her holding from her left side, but nothing a bit of telekinesis couldn’t help with. “^I’m so sorry to hear. Well, whether it’s ‘Mrs. Autumn’ or just ‘Autumn’, I’m here for you both, and will be watching over you today.^”

    Anne took the news with a soft smile, leaning in closer. “~Thank you, Mrs. Autumn. I... don’t really know what to do now. I doubt I’m in the right mood for drawing after what we talked about with Aria, and I don’t want to bore you by taking a nap—~”

    “^Don’t you worry about me, sweetie~. If you’re tired, then feel free to snooze, you’ve got a lot on your plate tonight.^”

    “~I d-don’t think I am, that’s the—~”

    rustle, rustle, rustle

    Both the psychic and the human looked up at the entrance to their room, expecting to see either a healer wanting to check up on Anne, or Cadence & co. to keep her company.

    They turned out to be neither.

    So was the second person who ran in, then the third, and the fourth; Anne left reeling back in an equal mix of surprise and uncertainty. All the while, Autumn’s expression grew ever flatter with each of the unexpected guests. And then; they all finally noticed her.

    “M-Mrs. Autumn!?” Zephyr squeaked, breaking out of the group’s stupor at having ran away from class to see the oh-so-mysterious human, only to run into their teacher sitting there with them. Lacking any words, the Stunky turned to the rest of the group, who didn’t fare much better.

    Blossom wasn’t as shocked as the others, but still doubted all this would reflect well on her in the slightest. The Dartrix shook in worry as she looked anywhere but at her teacher. Mint’s startle was palpable to the senses in more than one way, prompting Autumn to quickly put up a Safeguard bubble around the Gloom, doing her best to make it let sound through without doing the same with scent.

    “What are you doing here, Mrs. Autumn?” Grace asked, the only one to lack the clear worry that filled the rest of the group, replaced almost entirely with modest confusion. Whether it was caused by the Zangoose being blissfully unaware of the mistake they had made, or just not caring about it, Autumn wasn’t sure.

    Still, it was a fair question, and deserved a fair answer. “^I’m looking after Anne here for today. Guessing you all finally got curious enough to want to visit her in person?^”

    As sudden as the kiddo’s entrance was, ultimately it was both harmless, and potentially even helpful for acclimatizing the village to the human’s presence further. Of course, that depended on what did said human have to say about it, still processing the group’s appearance one member at a time. Blossom was a familiar and very welcomed sight, of course, but the rest... well... they probably would be all nice too, when it came down to it.

    Without a clear idea of what to do now, Anne simply greeted them all with as confident of a wave as she could force out of herself. Which meant ‘barely at all’, but it still beat doing nothing, especially when combined with equally shaky words. “~H-hello.~”

    “Hi, Anne!” Blossom chirped, wasting no time before flying right up and onto the nearest surface that she could stand on.

    Namely, Anne’s knee.

    Despite all the scary, sharp looking talons, it proved to not be painful at all, leaving Anne’s reactions at just a startle, which then thawed into an amused giggle moments later. With Ember still firmly asleep, Anne slid her arm from around the foxie and reached it out beside the Dartrix.

    Said owl interpreting the gesture as an excuse to nestle into her front wasn’t expected, but it sure wasn’t unwelcome. “~Hey, B-Blossom!~”

    The rest of the newcomer group wasn’t certain how to react to such a sudden display of affection. Most of them just took the sights in for now, everything about how one of the scary and strange humans looked like. Autumn’s lesson proved accurate in the end—sheer height aside, Anne really didn’t look even slightly threatening, sure not with how lanky her build was.

    Mrs. Aria at least had an excuse of being a powerful psychic to make up for that.

    Some needed more time to really notice Anne’s full appearance than others, though. “...how are you so tall?” the Gloom asked, sounding as surprised as someone speaking this slowly was capable of. His question left others uncertain about how to respond, since... yeah, Anne was tall. Really tall if her telepathically translated voice, sounding just as young as the group that had just visited her, was anything to go by.

    However, this wasn’t the sort of question there really existed an answer to, forcing Anne to come up with an equally silly response. “~...how are you so short?~”

    At least the other kids found it funny, if their held-in chuckles were any sign.

    “^Now now, let’s not ask these kinds of questions to each other,^” Autumn chided. “^Humans just are rather tall, and Gloom just are rather short, it’s as simple as that.^”

    Both Anne and Mint mumbled out something that vaguely translated to ‘sorry’ as they looked away from each other, forcing someone else to pick up the topic—and someone else did. “Oh oh, Anne, can I show them that nice drawing you made of me?” Blossom asked, taking the human out of any funk she might’ve started falling into before it could get too bad.

    An affirmative answer made the Dartrix fly over to the clearly human bag with glee in her voice as she tried spotting where Anne had left it. Even despite her eyesight being magnitudes better than everyone else’s in the room combined, the ‘notebook’ was nowhere to be seen, leaving Anne to speak up eventually—

    “~Oh, it’s not in the bags, it’s...~”

    The human opted to show rather than try to describe. After carefully laying down Ember on her back, Anne scooted over to the other side of the bed and started digging underneath the fluffy, mattress-like bedding, reaching her hand all the way to her elbow before finally finding what she was looking for and pulling it out.

    For once, not even Autumn had any idea about why Anne had done that. Most gathered didn’t dwell on that confusing display for too long, especially not the owl most giddy to show off Anne’s artistry to others, but... most didn’t mean ‘all’.

    “Why did you keep it buried like that?” the Stunky asked. His voice was boyish, slightly younger than Anne’s, and had a perplexing mix of confident delivery and a slight wobble to their voice all the same. That wasn’t even what Anne really focused on, though, only now realizing how unusual what she’d just shown was and putting her in a somewhat awkward situation.

    Not even something she did consciously, but... oh well. “~I, uh, f-force of habit.~”

    “But why?” Zephyr continued, realizing how little Anne’s response really explained.

    “~U-umm—~”

    “^Zephyr, it’s not nice to be digging into people’s behavior like that,^” Autumn reminded.

    Her words helped, but Anne wasn’t satisfied with that diversion. The question was valid, even if the answer to it wasn’t... pretty. “~N-no, it’s fine, I’m... I’m used to my pa—people breaking or taking my stuff if I leave it in the open like this...~”

    This answer too clarified little, but its implications were at least much clearer to sense this time. As were the obvious follow-up questions of ‘who’ and ‘why’. For all his prior brashness, Zephyr seemed to know better than to keep prying. Instead, he got up from his precious spot and... laid down beside Anne’s legs once she’d returned to her previous position, as if to look after her.

    Aww.

    Blossom wasn’t far behind, either. Even before she was done flipping the pages over to the one with her likeness, she hopped over and roosted beside the weary human. Her nuzzled affection wasn’t as soft or as warm as Ember’s, but it was appreciated all the same.

    “~I’ll be alright, d-don’t worry...~” Anne tried to reassure.

    “I’m sorry others messed with your things, Anne,” the Dartrix comforted. Her concern was well-intended, but somewhat misplaced. Oh, if only it had been as quaint as ‘others’ messing up with just her ‘things’.

    If only.

    “It won’t happen again under my watch!” Zephyr chimed in, leaving her unsure how to respond. As nice as it felt knowing that someone here downright wanted to look after her like that, it really wasn’t her immediate concern. And that’s beside the point that a skilled psychic was much better suited for that task than a Stunky whose perspective was around one foot off the ground.

    Still, the gesture was appreciated all the same, making Anne hold the owlet closer and smile down at the lil’ Dark-type in absence of any way of returning his concern beyond... petting him with her foot. She had no idea how well that’d be received here, but preferred not to risk it all the same. “~Thanks, heh.~”

    “Anytime!”

    Silly as it might’ve been, Zephyr’s conviction still made Anne feel quite nice.

    “D-do you still want me to show off your drawings?” Blossom asked.

    Anne answered with a light chuckle and a firm nod of her glasses-clad face. Blossom wasted no time scrambling herself out of the affection and showing off the nicest depiction of herself anyone had ever made once she found the right page. She flew around the room, trying to hover in front of all her friends with the notebook in her talons, letting them all get a good look.

    The reactions ranged from being solidly impressed, to being uncertain of how much they should be impressed, to a lack of any response whatsoever because of their attention having been captured by something else.

    “What’s that on your face?” the Zangoose asked, the question delivered in a flat, creaky, and yet feminine voice.

    It took both Anne and Blossom out of left field somewhat. The human girl guessed some would find glasses to be much more interesting than some mediocre sketches made by a wannabe ‘artist’ with no actual knowledge or practice...

    Trying to shake back that source of self-loathing before it could germinate further, Anne slid her glasses off and showed them off, “~Th-these are my glasses. They help me see, and I’m almost blind without them.~”

    Anne looked around the room to emphasize her explanation. An all-consuming blob of various shades of brown, and several vaguely defined colorful smudges strewn across it. Just enough to see where everyone was, but if not for Anne already knowing their species, she would have little idea what she was looking at. The lack of focus soon made her eyes tear up and forced her to put her glasses back on.

    “How bad is your sight?” Grace continued. Her question was blunt, sure, but that didn’t bother Anne as much as her being unsure how to answer it. ‘-7.5 diopters’ was as helpful an answer in an optometrist’s office, as it was utterly useless here.

    And that was assuming it was still accurate. It’s been a couple years since she’d gone to get her prescription with her grandma, who knew if her eyes hadn’t gotten any worse since then. Even the very glasses she wore were long past their prime, and she had to occasionally ‘tweak’ them with pliers to keep them fitting on her head as she grew.

    Thankfully, neither the Zangoose nor anyone else here really cared about any precise measurement, letting Anne answer appropriately vaguely once she’d realized that. “~Really, really bad. Bad enough t-to make you look like a white and reddish blob without them on.~”

    The Zangoose tilted her head. “Do all humans see this badly?”

    “It would be much easier to keep ourselves h-hidden if they did!” Zephyr chuckled, helping Anne avoid responding to such a silly question herself, the resulting amusement releasing a fair bit of tension around the room. Guess as opposed as she was to it previously, she still could give petting him with a foot a try.

    Coordinating the body part in question was tricky, but surprisingly doable. She started just behind the Stunky’s ears, petting across his entire back. Well-worn socks didn’t make for the nicest material to be delivering affection through, but—much to her relief—the Stunky really didn’t care about such trivialities.

    What mattered is that it felt really nice.

    “How do these help you see?” Blossom asked. Her question was nowhere near as rude as Grace’s, but it wasn’t any easier to answer, unfortunately. Anne thought through how she’d even explain her specs’ functionality to the assorted kids, especially with her previous attempt at doing so ending up accomplishing nothing more than bringing further confusion to Aria and Autumn.

    She supposed a different way of describing it could work, a more inaccurate but more evocative one? Hopefully. “~They fix your sight if it’s already bad, but if it’s good, they make it worse.~”

    The rest of the group took the explanation in without many complaints—though not the Dartrix herself. “But hoooooow?”

    “~They... sigh, th-they curve light.~”

    “Wow... how do they—”

    “Can I look through them?” Grace cut in.

    Anne was immensely unsure how to respond—she wasn’t opposed to others looking through them in principle, but... probably not when it involved the only thing that let her see being handled by paws with claws the size of knives. If only there was a way—

    “^I’ll help sweetie, don’t worry,^” Autumn reassured.

    The human nodded as the Indeedee carefully hovered her specs around, taking a couple of attempts each time to orient them the right way before letting each of the kids take a peek through them. Most of them went as expected—brief headaches, expressions of disbelief, confusion about how something that they can’t see through at all can help anyone regain their sight at all.

    Exactly the same step-by-step list that happened each time she showed them off to human audiences in the past. Guess humans and mons really weren’t that different, heh—

    “...ooooh. I see more of you now, I think,” the Gloom mumbled.

    ...

    Everyone gathered looked stunned at Mint, though only Anne really knew what his admission meant. “~O-oh. Seems you’re n-nearsighted too?~”

    “...near-what?”

    “~You see f-far away things much worse than close things.~”

    “...oh. Yeah.”

    The nonchalance with which the Gloom had acknowledged Anne’s impromptu diagnosis took the girl aback a bit. Definitely not how she had reacted to her first glasses... probably. She was too young to remember when that had happened. “~Looks like you c-could use a pair of glasses y-yourself, heheh...~”

    “...why? I’m doing okay,” Mint responded, puzzled.

    His words were even more confusing than his previous tone, leaving the two kids at somewhat of an awkward impasse. Anne eventually muttered, “~But—wouldn’t you wanna see better?~”

    “...maybe. Everyone helps me when I can’t see something. It’s not a problem.”

    “~Y-yeah, that wouldn’t work in h-human world... really hard t-to get around if you see as bad as I normally do.~”

    “Isn’t seeing close things better than far away things normal?”

    Zephyr’s question was appreciated for the change in topic it brought with itself. Diagnosis of visual issues wasn’t usually a fun subject, but it sure beat thinking about how the world from which she hailed from could only accommodate her if she ‘fixed’ herself to be in line with regular people.

    “~Yes, b-but it’s really bad for me. I-I had my sight tested—~”

    “How do you even test sight?” Grace asked, tilting her head.

    “~Oh, many ways!~” Anne perked up. “~There’s the test where you have to read smaller and smaller symbols and at s-some point they’re too small to make out. O-or in my case I had them tested with a laser!~”

    The Indeedee asked, “^What is a ‘laser’, Anne?^”

    “~It’s, umm—it’s like a lot of light packed into a very narrow beam.~”

    “...is it like Flash Cannon?” Mint asked.

    “~Wh-what?~”

    The term rang some distant bell in Anne’s mind, but not much beyond that. It sure sounded like a name someone would give to a move, and she probably overheard it from one of father’s league binges once or twice, but she had absolutely no idea what it looked like or what it did. Considering it was a move, though, the answer to the question of ‘what it did’ almost always ended up being ‘mayhem’. “~N-no, no, not a move. If I had my eyes t-tested with it, it probably would’ve t-taken my entire head with it, h-heh...~”

    To Anne’s immediate concern, either nobody got her joke, or nobody found it funny, since the expressions around the room were much more shocked than amused.

    Thankfully, Mint was there to help change the subject once more, “...so it’s Electric-type then?”

    Hardly a question the girl could answer, either. She supposed that thinking of everything in terms of types made much more sense for a mon than it does for a human, but it wasn’t a mindset she knew how to get into, especially when already feeling put on the spot. She supposed it was only fair to admit that, then. “~I don’t know. M-most things in the human world don’t really fit into neat ‘types’ l-like that.~”

    “...doesn’t everything have a type?”

    “~I was t-taught that humans don’t have any types and that we aren’t even Normal-type. L-like, what type is something a-as simple as the sun, for example?~”

    “Psychic.” / “...Fire.” / “Fairy?” / “E-electric!”

    Four voices arriving at four entirely different conclusions immediately shifted the mood from mild shock at Anne’s claim about humans being typeless, to all the kids looking at each other with surprise and confusion. The human couldn’t even get a word in edge-wise before an argument broke out, the sort that she had absolutely no way, or desire, to contribute to.

    Grace argued, “Can’t be Electric, doesn’t glow like a lightning bolt.”

    “...no way it’s Fairy, or it’d hurt all the Dark-types!” Mint insisted.

    “If it was Psychic, all the psychics would feel it every single day!” Zephyr pointed out.

    “How c-could it be Fire?” Blossom asked. “It’s glowing and not burning!”

    The disagreement quickly devolved into an all-out, no holds barred shouting match between the four. Thankfully, Blossom at least hopped off the bed before joining the rest of her friends in their deep, philosophical discussion. Anne, meanwhile, was somewhere between stunned and wanting to collapse underground at accidentally sparking it all.

    Autumn was laughing her lungs out.

    All the combined chaos was loud enough to stir Ember out of her exhaustion nap and straight into Anne’s good arm. The vixen was taken aback at seeing so many of her classmates here all of a sudden, but wasn’t any more eager to get into such a pointless discussion than her human. What she did do, though, was join in on Autumn’s continued giggling. Anne laughed along once she’d gotten over her embarrassment, the two girls leaning on each other as any remaining tension quickly evaporated.

    The evening would be scary and who knew what would happen, but for now, they had each oth—

    Right as Anne was about to finish calming down, though, everyone gathered heard yet another laughter join them. Whispering, rustling, very girlish and coming from right behind them. It made the laughing trio stop and look around in confusion, their combined gaze soon stumbling onto the Phantump from the next room over, floating a couple of feet above Autumn.

    They said something upbeat and amused when noticed, but almost nobody understood them. Instead, all the laughter suddenly ending made the rambling quartet call a ceasefire in their argument in case something bad had happened; their shared focus was soon also drawn to the stray ghost.

    Way too much of way too sudden attention for the little one. They let out a frightful squeak, and dove behind the Indeedee, using her to hide from the other kids. She chuckled, “^Teehee, someone’s got a few too many eyes on herself, hasn’t she? Here, let me just link you up and—Anne?^”

    Just beside Autumn, Anne stared at the Phantump so close to her, aghast. Before anyone could ask her what was wrong,

    She spoke.

    “~How are you speaking Unovan?~”​


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    • Chapter 23: Trauma

    • Chapter 23: Trauma​


    CONTENT WARNING: Death, Hate Speech, Mild Gore

    The silence filling the clinic room lingered for a while as everyone either processed, or tried to process the implications of Anne’s realization. Autumn’s eyes went wide after just a moment as it all clicked for her, but others were much less successful—and that included Sage.

    “~Huh?~” the Phantump muttered. As astonished as this human was at something, she couldn’t quite piece together what it was exactly. She recognized the last word the girl had said from somewhere, but not what it meant, leading her to tilt her head a bit. “~Wh-what do you mean?~”

    Anne didn’t expect that reaction in the slightest. It made her doubt her own observation for a moment before she shook it aside. Regardless of whether they understood her, they still clearly spoke Unovan, and almost certainly used to be a human—used to.

    Maybe they just didn’t remember what ‘Unovan’ meant? Not a word most used often in their daily lives, very few people spoke anything other than it after all, at least outside of large cities. Ultimately, though, none of that truly mattered. What mattered is that Anne felt both concerned and sorry for the ghost child in front of her, and wanted to help them somehow.

    And that required them to meet each other first. “~Umm... nevermind. Hi, m-my name is Anne! What’s yours?~”

    Thankfully, the human’s meeting had the desired result. Her understandable voice, unknowingly made even more so with Autumn’s help, was friendly and warm, something Sage couldn’t get enough of. After shaking some of her previous shock, she hovered over closer and spoke up again, her words much more upbeat this time, “~I’m Sage! Nice to meet you, Anne!~”

    The ghost’s greeting clarified two things in Anne’s mind, one much more harrowing than the other. They were obviously a girl, and clearly a young one at that, younger than even her. The slight distortion when Sage spoke made it difficult to estimate exactly how old she sounded, but she couldn’t have been older than seven or eight years old.

    “Hello, Sage!” Ember woofed, taking the hauntling aback—but only for a moment.

    In no time, Sage had hovered over to the firefox and introduced herself to her too—and then the rest of the room. Each of her greetings was warmer and more energetic than the last, all the pleasant interactions only making her more eager towards having more and more of them. She was rather skittish when talking to Grace in particular, though, which Anne... couldn’t blame her for.

    A nice—if slightly blunt—Zangoose was still a Zangoose after all, and even the older girl would need a lot more exposure before she could finish reclassifying the sight from ‘run away NOW’ to ‘person’. She knew full well that broad categorizations like that helped nobody, but they lingered in her mind, whether she liked that fact or not. She might as well take them head-on and work through them instead of pretending they aren’t a thing.

    Autumn ended up being the last person to meet the ghostie, still rather stunned. Enough so to make Sage speak up and ask if there was something wrong, making the Indeedee lightly shake her head and offer the lil’ one a hug. One gladly taken—surprisingly so, considering Sage’s previous skittishness. The most welcome kind of ‘surprisingly’.

    As the situation in the room calmed down enough for the visiting kids to gradually drift back towards chattering among themselves and for Anne to come to terms with this Phantump some two feet away from her being a dead girl, the human heard a familiar voice in her head. It was clearly Autumn’s, but... slightly muffled, its contents quickly clarifying why that was. “^Anne, do you... have any ideas about how we could help Sage? Oh—just focus on words in your mind and I’ll pick them up, no need to speak out loud.^”

    It was an excellent question, which Anne had barely any idea how to answer.

    She half-heartedly nodded as she tried to really think through the implications of her revelation, their combined tragedy soon boring a pit in her stomach. This was just a little girl, someone’s child, and now she was dead and presumably very, very far from home. The underlying surprise of a Phantump being a former human was there, but it was hardly important enough to merit anything more than an off-handed acknowledgement.

    The past few days have made it very clear that mons weren’t anywhere near as different from pe—humans as everything in Anne’s life had tried to teach her. Why would they and humans be any different when it came to coming back as ghosts? Why would humanity be spared from that horror?

    As Anne kept thinking, further unpleasant realizations followed, with some of them aimed at nobody but herself. She was right, Sage was just a little girl, someone’s child, and so far away from her family. And all that would’ve been just as true even if she’d been a Pidove, or a Patrat, or any other species in her past life, too.

    She had enough grip on herself in that moment to not let herself be dragged into the pit of self-loathing, not this time, but the self-awareness still stung. She eventually thought, “^How could we help her? I’m... I’m not sure. I suppose knowing what had happened to her would be helpful, but I can’t imagine that being comfortable for her to think about, and I don’t know if our curiosity will do her any good.^”

    Autumn acknowledged Anne’s words with a light nod as she blankly stared into the nearby wall, her paws thoughtlessly petting Sage’s wooden shell. The Indeedee was too distracted by her own thoughts to notice the unpleasantness swirling around Anne’s mind, but Ember didn’t have that obstacle. No matter what exactly had soured her best friend’s mind, she still wanted to swat it out.

    And there were few better antidotes to Anne’s anguish than the firefox’s soft warmth filling her lap and pressing itself into her front.

    As Ember dispensed affection, Autumn responded, “^I think it could help a lot, though. Even if there’s only so much we could do with that knowledge, we might find out how to comfort her more, or whether there’s some dangerous predator nearby some of our scouts could deal with. Of course, all that only if Sage wants to talk about it. I’d loathe to put her through even more pain than she’d already been through.^”

    The Indeedee’s response had Anne shudder slightly as she petted Ember’s back with her one functional hand; the thought of the younger girl having been hunted down deeply terrifying. Unsurprising—this was the wilderness after all, and every single human kid has had it drilled into them that venturing into the woods was very dangerous—but still terrifying.

    Suppose this rationalization made sense, especially if it could lead to the village becoming safer overall. This was all miserable, and her eyes were rather damp even just from thinking about it, but they could figure something out for the lil’ ghostie—they had to.

    A further downturn in the mood earned Anne even more warm affection from the Braixen, slowly melting through the worst of her worries. Ember wasn’t entirely sure about the specifics of what Anne and Autumn were talking about, but she agreed with their drive wholeheartedly. “M-mhm!”

    The Braixen’s woofed affirmation had Sage look over at her confused, much to the fox’s amusement. Unsure how to respond verbally, she recalled a cute human gesture Anne used to show to her, trying her hardest to curl her fingers into a rough shape of a heart. Scuffed as her attempt at conveying the symbol was, it was nonetheless understood by the recipient, lighting up the Phantump’s expression and prompting her to try returning it.

    To no success, but fortunately, that didn’t demotivate her too much—especially with someone else stepping up in curiosity. “Th-that’s a cool name, Sage!” Blossom chirped.

    Her greeting wasn’t the most well thought out in the world, but it succeeded at catching the ghostly girl’s attention all the same. And then, startling her at the realization that the Dartrix was standing some four inches away from her and had flown over entirely silently. Which then startled the owlet, not expecting such a drastic reaction; the two left unsure how to respond.

    Zephyr caught just enough of the exchange to break into chittering giggling, almost making Blossom speak up at him in a mix of slight fluster and equally mild annoyance—only to be cut off by someone else stepping into the room.

    “Alright everyone, you’ll have to get out for a moment to give the human some space. It’s time to change their bandages,” the unfamiliar voice explained; simultaneously a brief burst of buzzing with several clicking noises interspersed in it and a middle-aged lady mustering out all the patience she had available.

    Anne perked up at the sight—she had seen the Leavanny that had just walked in a couple more times by now, but never heard her speak with a provided translation. And as important as having her bandages and cast changed was, the thought that everyone would have to get out of the room because of her was an unpleasant one. Then again, forcing them to sit through what almost certainly was a gory sight didn’t sit right with her, either.

    Maybe the nurse could just lower the curtain around the bed again and shield them from having to see it that way. “~U-um—no no, you don’t have to leave,~” Anne responded. Her words stunned the Leavanny, both because of being translated for the first time, and for defying her guidance in such a blatant way. Before the bushbug’s surprise could turn to annoyance—or worse, anger—Anne continued, hoping to clarify, “~W-would it be possible for the curtains to get lowered again s-so that those who want to stay can just hop on the bed?~”

    Now that was a much more understandable idea, if still rather silly. Though, if the patient was comfortable with it, then the Leavanny supposed she could let it slide. “Sure. Alright everyone, you best get over there or get ready to see some blood. And you... u-um...”

    “~’Anne’?~”

    “Yes, Anne. Sorry. Lay down here. You’ll have to move, Autumn.”

    The room erupted into a fair bit of chaos as the mantis nurse got ready and prepared everything needed to reapply a fresh cast. Anne’s still-aching body appreciated getting to lie down again; most shifted further away from Anne’s injured arm to avoid the gruesome sight—but surprisingly, not everyone. Of her guests, only Blossom did, leaving the other three behind to watch what was underneath all the thick bandages in a mix of morbid curiosity and... regular curiosity.

    “First, I’ll need to numb the arm again,” the Leavanny explained. “Can you—”

    Anne was familiar enough with the procedure to know what to do now, pulling back what remained of her sleeve to expose as much of her shoulder as she could, and stuck it out for better access. The eagerness of the gesture took the Leavanny aback, but not for long, especially as the surprise turned into appreciation for cooperating. “Thank you, Anne. This will sting a bit. Hopefully, it hasn’t been too painful for you in the past.”

    “~No, not at all!~”

    Even despite her knowing exactly what would happen, the touch of the nurse’s leafy limbs on her bare skin took Anne aback. She didn’t have the time to react further before it was followed by a quick, barely noticeable sting, and then... blissful nothingness. The muted aching in her left arm wasn’t bad enough to leave Anne agonized, but having it be suddenly removed still brought a wave of immense relief. “~Ohhh... th-thank you, umm... nurse.~”

    “Name’s Maple. And... you’re very welcome, dear. I’m really glad you’ve been cooperative.”

    Whatever hesitation there might’ve been once Anne had first spoken up was now entirely gone. Maple’s words were as confident as they got, and that extended to her actions. Bit by bit, she peeled the cast off, making the girl shudder despite the lack of any associated pain. Nothing but a slight cold chill, and the unpleasant, wet sounds every once in a while.

    She was so, so glad she didn’t have to see all the gory details—something the ones that elected to stay behind the curtain couldn’t say.

    “...ohh, ewww. Wh-why’s there so much blood...” the Gloom mumbled.

    Anne didn’t like the implications of these words one bit.

    “Pfffft, most of us are full of blood, Mint,” Maple chuckled. “It’s really only us Grasses, Steel-types, and Ghosts that are the exception to that—and some rocks, too, I suppose. In almost everyone else, there’s a lot of this stuff when taken together.”

    The nurse’s answer was helpful in explaining the Gloom’s surface-level confusion, but did little to help with the underlying disgust. As Maple continued to take the cast apart, the Poison-type’s obvious discomfort got louder and louder, culminating in a dry heave, soft steps toward the room’s entrance, and the rustle of the canvas flap being violently pulled aside.

    “Gnarly,” the Zangoose commented. She sounded more bored than the human would’ve ever suspected anyone to react to the presumed sight. A few moments later, she continued, genuine surprise filling her voice for the first time today, “Wait, where’d he—Mint! Where’d you go?” And then, the noises of her leaving the room.

    Over on the other side of the curtain, Anne was managing rather well. Ember had snuggled up to her almost immediately after she laid down. Fortunately for everyone involved, Sage didn’t try looking through the flimsy barrier separating her from a sight nobody her age should ever witness. Instead, she slowly gathered the courage to join the very comfy Braixen before Zephyr spoke up, making her jump, “Wow, I... I’m really glad I don’t have to see this in the wild.”

    Everyone in the room, aside from Anne and Sage, agreed strongly with that observation, even without seeing the bloody mess being referenced. The Phantump didn’t quite figure out what they meant, but the human did, shuddering at the thought of anyone present here having to hunt other living beings for survival.

    Only the most natural thing in the world, only absolutely horrific.

    “Indeed, Zephyr, indeed. So... Anne. I think I remember you using your arms a lot,” Maple chimed in, snapping Anne out of any growing warmth-induced drowsiness.

    The girl first nodded, and then clarified once she remembered that Maple couldn’t see her, “~Y-yes, I use them all the time.~”

    “It’s gonna be a long while until your arm is all well again, sadly,” the Leavanny sighed. “We can Heal Pulse all we want, but grave injuries like this still take a while to mend. And then I’m unsure how much you’ll be able to use it even after it’s done recovering. I think I remember seeing some nerves being damaged too...”

    The thought of her injury being potentially permanent sent a pang of fear through Anne’s body. It stirred Autumn out of her thoughtful mood enough to scramble along to the human and try to join in on the comfort as the girl responded, “~I-I see. Th-thankfully my other hand is the dominant one, I’ll live...~”

    Maple asked, confused, “‘Dominant’?”

    The question took Anne aback—and behind the human’s line of sight, Autumn, too. She supposed it was just a human thing, one she’d be glad to explain in that case. “~It’s uh, it’s when you’re much b-better at using one hand than the other. L-like, I can draw and write with my right hand, but have no idea how I would do it with the other one.~”

    “^Really?^” the Indeedee lifted her eyebrow. “^I would’ve thought these sorts of skills would work with both arms.^”

    “~No, they don’t, n-not for me at least.~”

    “I can’t imagine b-being better at using one wing than the other, heheh...” Blossom giggled.

    Her comment was amusing, but it also got Anne thinking. That made sense, with birds having one wing be stronger than the other would make it impossible for them to fly straight, and much the same was probably true for quadrupeds. Which left bipeds—and even then, only some of them, judging by Autumn’s confusion.

    “Is that a human thing?” Maple asked.

    “~I-I think so, Mrs. Maple.~”

    “No, it’s not!” Ember woofed in, taking everyone else aback—especially with the topic in question sounding so human. “I h-have that too! I only use my left hand for my wand.”

    “~Are you left-handed?~” Sage asked. The Braixen first paused as she double checked whether that word meant what she thought it did, before eagerly agreeing, lighting the hauntling’s spirits. “~Ooooo, that’s cool! I’m right-handed.~”

    The Phantump waved both her arms for emphasis, without a visible difference in how well she could move them. Could be that ‘dominant’ hand thing didn’t show up when waving, could be that she just wasn’t ‘right-handed’ anymore. A neat, and somehow-not-entirely-human fact in either case.

    The Leavanny continued, “Well, at least I’m glad that this won’t impact you as much as it would if it was the other arm. There’s something else I’ve been curious about, if you don’t mind.”

    “~S-sure.~”

    Anne felt her shoulder getting lightly pulled all around and exactly nothing below it, but the steadily decreasing coldness implied that Maple was applying the new cast. It wasn’t anything uncomfortable, but the sooner she could move freely again, the better.

    “When you first got here, I saw a few of these small, round burn scars on your arms and had no idea what to make of them. All I could figure out was that they must’ve been here even before your accident. What had caused them?”

    Well-meaning as the question was, it immediately sent a shudder through the girl’s body and the minds of the two nearby psychics. The answer was straightforward and horrible in equal measure, and exactly nobody wanted Anne to have to push herself through putting words to a disgusting, horrifying truth. Still, the girl tried, “~I-it’s f-from... f-from—~”

    “^Her human parents inflicted these onto her, and it won’t happen again,^” Autumn asked for her, voice steadfast and not permitting even the slightest consideration of pursuing this topic any further.

    It was rather unlike her, taking the Leavanny aback, but she wasn’t about to argue with something this clearly unpleasant. “I see. I’m... very sorry to hear, Anne. Alright, I think I’m done here. I will pull up the curtain now.”

    The mix of Braixen warmth and a gentle psychic hug embracing much of her body helped Anne brace herself for the sight that awaited her—a thankfully tame sight. Her arms were wrapped in layers upon layers of reinforced silk, some of it still fresh enough to glisten. No blood on either her shoulder or on the couple fingertips that stuck out of the cast, but... the scene wasn’t without its gory parts, with Maple taking her time before carrying what remained on the previous cast out. So, so red on the inside...

    It was nauseating, and not just for Anne. “S-sorry Anne I have to go-umph—”

    Before the girl could even finish turning her head, Blossom was gone through the magically safeguarded window, leaving everyone still present hoping Dartrix hadn’t gotten too sick. Ember fared better, and Sage was thankfully too distracted by staring at the stick in the fox’s tail to notice, needing a long while to realize that both the owlet and the mantis were now gone.

    Wanting to drag herself away from all that unpleasantness, Anne wasted no time before sitting back up and turning towards Sage. Anything to get her own condition out of her mind, and there was no better way to do that than to contribute to something genuinely helpful. “~Hey, Sage?~”

    The hauntling’s “~Hmm?~” had her looking all around the room, confusion creeping onto her wooden face at the surroundings yet again having shifted. So much more change here than in the uniform mix of white snow and black trees outside...

    Anne continued, “~S-so... me and Autumn were curious about where you came from, a-and if you remember it.~” Contrary to the worst of her fears, Sage didn’t immediately break into tears. In fact, she took the request very calmly; one spectral hand gently patted the bottom of her shell as she tried to think back.

    Which sadly didn’t mean her introspective efforts would amount to much, however. “~I... d-don’t remember. I’ve only been walking through the forest with Mr. Yaksha and sometimes sleeping.~”

    The unfamiliar name caught everyone’s attention, Anne continuing shortly, “~’Mr. Yaksha’? Who is he?~”

    “~He’s a friend! He found me when I was all alone and has been protecting me! He’s a bit angry sometimes, but really nice!~”

    As glad as everyone gathered was to hear that the little one didn’t have to brave the wilderness alone, the latter remark caught the attention of Anne and Autumn in particular, neither of them liking it. The human asked, “~Did he ever... d-do anything to you?~”

    “~Nooooo! I said he’s nice, he’s just... uh... often not happy and talks little and sometimes gets angry, but never at me!~”

    “^Hmm... ‘rough’?^” Autumn chimed in.

    “~Y-yeah! He’s my friend, and I wish he was happy.~”

    “~I-I hope he will be when he sees you having fun with us! What species is he?~”

    “~Oh?~”

    Once more, a term Sage was unfamiliar with, forcing Anne to restate her question. “~Wh-what does he look like?~”

    “~He’s this big, and gray all around, and has these silly teeth that open.~”

    The mental image of ‘teeth that open’ brought varying levels of discomfort to everyone gathered, but the human had a hunch about what it meant. “~D-do they open from the side and are golden?~”

    “~Golden?~”

    “~Yellow.~”

    “~Yeah!~”

    “~So he’s a Banette?~”

    While Autumn realized she’d seen one of these earlier right beside Sage, the Phantump herself got... a bit confused. She didn’t remember knowing that word, but the more she thought about it, the more something came back to her recollection, eventually culminating in a shaky nod. “~Y-yeah, I think so.~”

    The confirmation left Anne uneasy, in turn. All she’d ever heard associated with that species was immense cruelty and pure hatred, and to hear of one that had been apparently looking after this little ghost girl was... unexpected. Still, clearly yet another bigoted human myth, she was well aware—

    “^Wouldn’t have thought one of them would ever make for a protector,^” Autumn commented.

    ...or not just human this time.

    Anne chuckled to herself, relieving some of the steadily building tension. As casual as their chat had been so far, Anne was almost certain it wouldn’t remain so for much longer. One deep breath, another, time to continue. “~I’m glad to hear he’s been looking a-after you. Do you remember what happened... before that?~”

    As predicted, Sage’s body language grew more uncomfortable almost immediately. Anne didn’t know what to do, but Ember’s wordless affection was eagerly accepted and appreciated. It was the most pleasant thing the Phantump had ever experienced, making her only bury herself further into the fluff. It didn’t look like she’d be giving an answer to this particular question. Anne and Autumn alike mulled through where to take this chat next—

    But then; Sage clumsily turned around, and responded, “~I... I d-don’t remember much. I know I-I used to be something else, b-but... I don’t know what. All I remember is laughter and my head hurting so, so much and it always makes me scared and I want to know what happened and—~”

    Anne’s hug wasn’t anywhere near as comforting as that of the Braixen, but it was just as well received, especially with the human pulling in both the ghostie and the fox she was snuggling into in one fell swoop. Autumn wasn’t far behind either, focusing more on the situation around her now that they’ve both figured out a lead, and made sure that the lil’ ghost was interested in being helped.

    As the part Grass-type slowly calmed down, others listened in to the commotion happening beside them. Stunky weren’t particularly well suited to climbing anything even close to vertical, but that didn’t mean Zephyr wouldn’t give it his best effort. Eventually, he’d made enough holes in the bedding to pull himself up onto it, and approached the cuddle pile. “I-I’m sorry it happened to you, but I’ll protect you, Sage! I won’t let it happen again!” he reassured.

    His posturing was silly at best, but that didn’t make the gesture any less heartfelt, bringing smiles to the room—aside from Sage. “~B-but Mr. Yaksha is already protecting me.~”

    The clarification brought on a few moments of awkward silence during which nobody really knew what to say, the Stunky most of all. Thankfully, Autumn was familiar enough with kid-induced awkwardness to think of a way out, audibly clearing her throat before telepathically chiming in.

    “^That’s still a wonderful gesture Zephyr, thank you. Now, Sage... would you want me to help you remember what happened?^”

    Focus being brought back over onto the Indeedee made the Phantump’s expression light up once more. She wasted no time before huddling closer to Autumn’s front and firmly nodding; her sheer affection towards the psychic was no less confusing than it was earlier.

    “^Alrighty, we can try to figure it out together! Now, Anne? Would you mind coming along with us to help me make sense of any human things I might see?^”

    The human had absolutely zero idea what ‘coming along’ could’ve meant there, but it didn’t matter. As long as she could help the undead girl out, she was down. “~Yeah!~”

    “^Are you sure? I can’t imagine it’ll be anything... pretty,^” Autumn warned.

    “~I’m—I’m used to not pretty things. I’ll be alright.~”

    To the Indeedee’s utmost regret, Anne was very right about that. “^Okay. Ember, could you give us space? Sage, could you sit on Anne’s lap for this?^”

    The hauntling took her time letting go of the chubby psychic, but ultimately did as asked, and so did the Braixen. Anne’s one-armed hug wasn’t anything warm like Ember’s or padded like Autumn’s, but it felt... nice in a more familiar way, at least.

    “^Thank you both! Now...^” the Indeedee started, taking the deepest breath of her life before sitting down beside the human and the once-human. She laid a paw on Anne’s forearm and grabbed Sage’s hand with the other one. She felt immense dread fill her as she prepared to descend in a much more controlled way than a couple of days ago. No matter how nervous it made her, Sage deserved to know what had happened.

    And both she and Anne wanted to help with all their hearts.

    “^...let’s do this.^”

    A wave of static rushed through Anne’s brain as her body suddenly grew weak, slumping forward together with the other two. In just a few seconds, all three of them were completely out, somewhere between asleep and fainted, as Autumn reached into Sage’s memories.

    To the very beginning.

    To her very end.​

    crunch

    crunch

    Slow, careful steps filled the small clearing.

    The point of view the three were forced into was almost entirely focused on the surrounding forest floor. The occasional glances up at the nearby trees showed off the beautiful fall colors filling the scene, be they still feebly holding onto the branches or laying dried on the ground. It was the latter that Sage was specifically interested in, though, their colorful sneakers constantly looking around in search of the biggest pile of leaves to crunch through.

    They liked that sound.

    Despite the focused point of view, most of Sage’s outfit was visible. A bright yellow, puffy jacket, sneakers spanning half the rainbow, a loose pair of stretchy jeans. And, on top of the latter, a clearly oversized skirt, one dark-skinned hand constantly having to hold it in place around their waist.

    It felt nice to wear. How it looked and especially how it moved when they tried to twirl. It was so, so pretty, just like when their older sister wore it.

    Sage hoped she wouldn’t notice it missing for a moment. They didn’t remember her wearing this one in a while, and if they just put it back like it was before, it would be fine, right? Their sister would probably be so angry about them taking it without her knowledge, and looking weird in it, if she ever found out. A part of them knew they weren’t supposed to be wearing it. After all, skirts were for girls, and not for—

    “~Guys, look! Sage’s wearing a dress!~”

    Suddenly, the focus snapped over onto the small hill surrounding the clearing. On top of it, a trio of older boys.

    Faces distorted beyond comprehension.

    Sage could only stand there in panic as they watched them approach, one arm still clutching their sister’s skirt to their side. The boys’ cruel laughter grew with every step, especially as they continued to mock them in their low voices, “~Guess he’s really just a sissy, ahahaha!~”

    “~No kidding! What, were you too fed up with just being a crybaby, Sage, and just had to grab a dress to go along with it~!?~”

    The point of view shifted slightly backwards as Sage tried to hold them back with a raised hand. Eventually, a boyish, shaky voice responded, right as the three walked up to them. Sage’s voice. “~L-l-leave me alone—~”

    “~Or what? You’re gonna cry harder?~”

    The three’s roaring laughter reduced Sage to shaking again as they were surrounded. Each of the boys had a solid foot on them, the sheer distortion around their heads only conveying a cruel smile.

    And then; the first shove came.

    The world turned into a blur as Sage tried to remain standing, forced to let go of the skirt to regain their balance. It was of little help though, especially as they then tripped on it, sending them down onto their knees, to the trio’s monstrous amusement. They were too afraid to leave the skirt behind, grabbing it again before trying to run—

    “~Oh man, everyone’s gonna love this!~”

    As scared as Sage already was, it was nothing compared to the sheer terror that the taunt stirred in them, bringing them to tears. “~P-p-please don’t tell—~”

    “~Or what, huh~? What are you gonna do, you fucking crybaby, piss your pants!?~”

    Yet more laughter, paralyzing Sage further. The world turned into a blur as they were shoved again and again, stumbling over their feet with every painful push.

    “~Figures you dressed up like a girl with how whiny you are!~”

    “~A fucking baby is what he is, a little baby girl that needs his bottle badly!~”

    Sage closed their eyes as they tried to endure it all. Their inner ear screamed at being constantly shoved around, their body cried at the shoves turning into punches, into kicks, into more and more painful bruises.

    “~And don’t you even fucking try telling anyone about this—~”

    The whirlwind of pain abruptly stopped as they got grabbed by their shoulders with a grip strong enough to send them screaming if they had any voice left.

    “~—‘cuz if you do, we’ll tell everyone what a fucking FAGGOT you are!~”

    An instant later, the most forceful shove yet, sending Sage falling backwards. They pried their eyes open, looking up at the sky, at the beautiful fall around them, at the trio of popular, well-off bullies, at their smug, self-satisfied grins. Their laughter burned itself into their mind as they fell, fell, fell—

    And then, darkness and unimaginable pain from the back of their head.

    They tried to move; they tried to do anything, but their body wouldn’t listen. There was only burning, radiating suffering that intensified by the moment, and freezing numbness enveloping them from all around. Sage felt their warmth be drained through the back of their head, felt something wet there, and could do nothing but lay there.

    And listen.

    Laughter.

    Shouts.

    Screams.

    Steps racing away from her, crunching through the fallen leaves.

    And eventually, nothing more, for an eternity.

    Freezing cold, oppressive darkness, suffocating silence. Without reprieve, without end, without mercy.

    Untold infinities later, a blink back to the recollection.

    A silent, unmoving gaze staring down at a lifeless body. Dark-skinned, bloated, covered in dirt and debris, with a few parts already taken by wildlife. Around its head, a brown, dried-out blot. Surrounded by decomposing leaves and almost entirely barren trees.

    Alone.

    The scene continued in perfect stillness for an unknown amount of time. Not a single thought, not a single motion, only the oppressive, unending sight of a carcass that used to be a person.

    And then, a distant voice. Followed by another, and another still. One of them low, very low, just like she’d heard before—

    Before—

    She had to run.

    At last, Sage turned and levitated away as fast as she could, the most distant voices suddenly eclipsed by her own panicking breathing. Everything shook; the world was once more a blur of white and brown and gray and black—

    In the distance, a heartbroken shriek behind her. A wail of a family shattered, of a child lost, of an unspeakable tragedy.

    Further and further away.

    Soon enough, it was gone, as was everything else. There were only the trees around her, the frost and decomposing leaves underneath her, and the silver, clouded skies above her.

    A cruel world in all its vastness.

    All the trio knew was that they’d been crying for hours.

    They remained motionless even as they returned to awareness, only capable of shaking as tears continued to flow.

    Anne kept the little girl close and held her tight, so very tight. She was afraid to let go of her even for a moment, afraid of unthinkable horrors happening to her again, of her being hurt so cruelly again. Autumn’s angle didn’t let her do much physically, but she more than made up for that with her psychics, keeping Sage in as warm of an embrace as she could manage, as if to protect her from the deathly cold.

    Sage hurt more than words could describe.

    The Indeedee felt everything going on around her. Felt their grief, their loss, their pain, Sage’s overwhelming fear. She wanted to do something, anything, to help in the moment, but there was nothing any of them could do. Nothing that could make up for what the Phantump had gone through.

    All they could do was be there for her, no matter what.

    As Autumn regained her bearings, she tried to push herself to at least check up on her surroundings. Ember held Anne as tight as she could, terrified at what was going on and feeling unable to stop it. Zephyr kept anxiously standing guard, constantly glancing over at them with uncertainty. The tiniest bit of relief filled his expression as he noticed his teacher beginning to come to again, but he didn’t dare speak up about it.

    On the ground beside the bed, a wrapped bundle of a now-cold pastry, left behind by presumably Holly. Nobody else around them.

    Bit by bit, the Indeedee began calming down, pushing through the trauma of what she’d just seen. No matter how much she needed comfort in the moment, the two girls beside her needed it more, and she had to be there for them both. Even as she tried to get rid of the last of them, tears kept coming in the most annoying way.

    Once Autumn felt confident about not immediately breaking down again should anything happen, she finally dared move. One paw stroking Anne’s arm, the other Sage’s hand. She couldn’t do much, but she could do that—

    And then, the Phantump recoiled slightly, withdrawing partially into her shell as she tried to press herself into Anne even further. “~I-I-I wanna go home...~”

    The Indeedee wanted to weep, but persevered. “^Shhhhh... shhhhhh....^”

    Quiet as they were, the shushes still helped. Just a gentle reminder of Autumn’s soothing presence, gradually seeping into the two traumatized girls’ minds and helping pull them out from the worst of it. Another attempt at physically comforting Sage went much better. The Phantump clutched her soft paw tight, clinging to it with all her strength, the little of it she had left after everything she just had to go through again.

    Autumn knew she couldn’t say much beyond that, for there was nothing she could say. Nothing but the most banal response to a tragedy like that, the most obvious one. And yet, the Indeedee still said it, because it needed to be said. Because Sage needed to hear it. “^I’m so sorry, sweetie. We’re here for you, no matter what.^”

    Pained as she still was, the words had reached the lil’ Phantump, making her slightly loosen her grip on the psychic’s paw. They helped, even if they couldn’t fully mend it all, even if they couldn’t answer the most harrowing of questions at the root of it all. “~Wh-why did they do that to m-me...~”

    The Indeedee continued her affection as she wondered how to respond to a question like that. There wasn’t much directly in the terrible vision that would explain why these specific humans had set their abusive sights on specifically Sage, but it didn’t matter.

    Because ultimately, the answer was the same. “^Some people are awful, and want to hurt others no matter what, Sage. We could debate for days about why that is, but... in the end, that’s just how things are.^”

    The Indeedee’s response was as satisfying as an answer to that entire moral conundrum would ever get—which was to say, not in the slightest. Still, there was one more thing she realized she hadn’t clarified, something easy to overlook, and yet, the most important sentence she could say. A philosophical answer wasn’t the point, wasn’t ever the point.

    “^It’s not your fault, Sage. I promise.^”

    What mattered was reassurance.

    However trite it was, it too helped, especially when accompanied by all the time in the world for Sage to calm down. Minutes upon minutes of silence, of gentle touch, physical and psychic alike, of the chubby psychic’s warm, ever comforting presence. The most important message repeated over and over again when needed, anything to help it all hurt less.

    Anne took even longer to come to after everything she’d witnessed. As harrowing as the recollection was for Autumn, it seemed to have hit Anne particularly hard, to where the Indeedee had to pry the Phantump out of the human’s embrace just to let her move freely again. With time, she too regained her bearings, especially once everyone around had joined in to comfort her—including Sage. Because as much as she hurt, Anne hurt too and was a friend. Why wouldn’t she help her?

    “~Th-thank you all...~” the human whispered.

    With her words signaling the return of the final member of the memory-diving trio, Ember immediately set upon vocalizing her concerns, “A-Anne! What happened!? You all were crying s-so much, and even afterwards, and you were s-so sad, and...”

    The human didn’t know how to answer. Ember deserved so much better than to have something as cruel as what they had all just seen be meticulously explained to her, insult by insult and strike by strike. Especially with Sage able to understand her as well. “~J-just something really sad, Ember. I-I’m okay now, I think.~”

    It was a lie, but one that couldn’t be avoided unless they all wished to spend the rest of the day wallowing in the misery of it all. It wouldn’t have even been a wholly unthinkable thing to do, not with how terrifying it all was, but they all had to move on. Sage didn’t want to keep hurting by thinking about it, Autumn wanted to focus on actually helping the two girls out, and Anne...

    Had to make sure of something first.

    The human doubted whether Autumn had grasped all the implications of the scene now burned into her memories forever. Hell, she suspected she hadn’t done so either, but there was one detail that stood out clear to her, something she knew existed but never really got to interact with before. Not consciously, at least. And she wanted to help, however little she could do. Help this lost child, this little girl feel safe, be her friend, and—if what she’d noticed was right... help her be a girl, too.

    “~Sage?~”

    Everyone sat so close together that the matter of sliding over from Autumn’s affection to Anne’s was a matter of hovering just a couple of inches over.

    “~Y-yes, Anne?~”

    “~Could I ask you something... p-personal?~”

    Autumn looked at the human uncertainly. She wasn’t sure where all this was going, but a part of her doubted it would do anything but bring more tears. Still, Anne clearly had a plan of sorts; she was doing this for a reason, and the psychic let her keep going for now.

    “~L-like what?”~ Sage asked, confused.

    Anne took a deep breath as she tried to mull through the ‘right’ words for this. She wished so, so much she was more familiar with any sort of proper terminology for this, anything that would let her avoid potentially insulting this hurt child beside her, but... she didn’t. All she could do was ask what she had on her mind as earnestly as possible, and hope it wouldn’t be taken the wrong way.

    Eventually, she asked, “~You’re a girl, right?~”

    Everyone else was rather confused at hearing such an odd question, be it because of how from the left it was, or—in Autumn’s case—by having no idea what did that matter for what they had all just seen. To Zephyr in particular, it came off almost like a setup for an exceptionally ill-timed joke, but no laughs came. Just an expecting human, and an uncertain hauntling, suddenly plunged into deep thought.

    It wasn’t a topic Sage spent a lot of time reflecting on, especially after ending up like this. Being a girl felt natural to her, but after what she’d just seen, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she hadn’t accidentally done something wrong. Maybe she shouldn’t have been thinking that. Maybe it was bad of her to do so.

    She didn’t know, and the more she tried to mull it through, the more worried she became. It was only after Anne’s fingers brushed against her wooden shell did Sage snap back to awareness, stuttering out the best answer she could think of, hoping it was the right one, “~I-I think so... I’m a girl, right?~”

    An instant later, as close of a hug as Anne’s one arm could provide.

    “~Yes, of course you are!~”

    Anne’s audible determination, appearing to have come entirely out of nowhere, was perhaps even more surprising than the pointless question that came before it. Not unwelcome in the slightest, though, lifting everyone’s spirits, especially when paired with her slightly teary, but resolute, smile. Sage didn’t expect an answer like that, but what surprised her the most was… her own reaction. Just how nice it felt to hear that. She didn’t even know why, but it just did.

    Sadly, it wasn’t the only question Anne had on her mind. She was well aware of just how much more unpleasant this second one could be, how many awful memories it could dredge up, but she had to know. They all had to know, so that they wouldn’t inadvertently bring more pain upon her. Anne continued, “~I also wanted to ask... would your parents have been angry if they knew?~”

    Despite how dumbfounding her question was for everyone else, Sage knew exactly what she meant by it. She might’ve taken her time gathering her thoughts for this previous one, but this time it was she who answered with all the confidence her tiny body could muster out, “~No! They w-wouldn’t, they never did anything bad to me, they would never hurt me!~”

    Neither the tone nor the response Anne expected, but they were both reassuring in their own right. And resulted in an immediate follow-up, one that she feared would sting even more, “~Did you tell them?~”

    Unfortunately, Anne’s hunch was right.

    Sage’s tiny body shook as she recalled her own thoughts about doing just that, from an eternity ago. All the doubts she had, all the times she took her big sister’s clothing just for a moment to feel nice, all the times she felt like she didn’t fit with the boys at all. Dozens of chances to speak up and talk to her parents about this, ask if she was doing something wrong—all of them squandered. “~N-no... I d-didn’t know what was going on, a-and it was so scary and I didn’t want to make them scared a-and—~”

    Time time, everyone scrambled in.

    Even if only Anne truly knew what they all just discussed, Sage’s distress was clear to see, and they all wanted to provide whichever attention they could. Touch, psychics, warmth, even just soft fur. All of them were noted, all of them helped.

    Anne felt guilty about pushing the conversation on like this, especially about something she neither had experience with nor didn’t strictly need to know. After everything she’d been through, she just wanted to be as sure as possible that this current hell wasn’t indirectly caused by Sage’s parents being similarly abusive or otherwise not accepting of her, but... it didn’t seem to be. Which, if anything, only made it even more tragic.

    Because it all could’ve been avoided, and wasn’t.

    It stung and hurt, especially with the ghost’s sadness soaking through her flimsy t-shirt. Anne wanted to help make up for all this. Make up, however ineffectually, for everything Sage had been through, but wasn’t sure how. Was there even anything she could do?

    While the human churned through that question, Autumn was torn between concern for Sage because of the sudden emotional downturn, and alert at sensing something, someone, behind her. Pink, glowing eyes, golden zipper for a mouth, peeking in through the nearby wall.

    Staring at them all in anger.

    The Indeedee had no idea how to respond, focusing on putting up a Protect if needed while continuing to act as if she hadn’t spotted them. If this really was the ‘Yaksha’ that Sage had mentioned, then they shouldn’t have been a threat to them, but... their fury made Autumn think otherwise. Why would they be so angry if they really were the Phantump’s guardian? Who were they really—

    As if in response to Autumn’s thoughts, she felt the ghost’s emotions behind her shift. As intense as their anger was, it quickly gave way to first reassurance and relief, and then, even more worryingly, to distress and shame. It left the Indeedee stunned as she sensed Yaksha withdraw from their room—and then seemingly from the entire clinic, too.

    Something was off about all this, and she needed to find out what. “^Anne?^” she spoke up, her calm, no-nonsense tone perking the human right away.

    “~Yes, M-Mrs. Autumn?~”

    “^I... need to leave for a moment. Are you gonna be okay with just the others here until I’m back?^”

    The thought made Anne shudder a bit, at least initially. She didn’t feel in danger here even with her future being uncertain, and between Sage understanding her and Ember knowing enough telepathy to talk to her, Autumn’s assistance wasn’t strictly needed, but... she still made the girl feel safer. Cared for.

    Then again, Autumn definitely wouldn’t have asked that without a good reason, so... “~S-sure. A-are you gonna be back soon, Mrs. Autumn?~”

    “^I hope so! Alright everyone, I need to take care of something and won’t be gone for long. Please take care of each other in my absence, okay?^”

    Autumn’s parting words prompted the predictable chorus of reassurances, bringing a weak smile to her face as she slid off the bed and headed out. She expected nothing else, but it still brought well-needed confidence. Once she’d left, the Stunky wasted no time before jumping off the bed and... coming to a stop beside the door. Anne expected him to eventually move or at least vocalize something, but he just stood there, completely still.

    As if… standing guard.

    “~Thank you, Zephyr.~”

    He didn’t even react, and not like Anne could blame him. Especially since her words were likely little more than gibberish to him—

    ...

    ...

    She figured it out.

    Without wasting another moment, Anne immediately slid over to the edge of the bed that all the bags laid beside, and dug in. Several items she needed to get, a few more she hoped to find—assuming that Mrs. Graham had taken what Anne thought she had—and the last few would just make the entire process easier.

    Ember helped a bit, though mostly by pulling everything needed up onto the bed with her psychics. At some point during the process, an array of noises that came from the direction of the door snagged the Braixen’s attention. Squeaks, woofs, mewls and oinks, some familiar but many not. A part of Anne’s mind begged for her to look over her shoulder and see what in the world was going on, but it was just this one thing left; she could get it done first—yes, there it was!

    Pulling a plain, all-black, and very well-worn t-shirt from underneath a dozen pounds of cargo turned out to be harder than expected, especially with Anne’s ability to get leverage being... limited. Still, she managed it, tossing it onto the small pile beside herself before assessing her spoils.

    Freshly dragged out shirt, the knife she took from her house, a smaller pencil case with a few assorted items. Some glue, some needles, rusty scissors. Beside all these, a few markers and a mess of dark fabric that used to be a pair of trousers some three years and five sizes ago.

    She had everything she needed.

    With the supplies taken stock of, Anne finally turned around to find out who had joined them all in the meantime. Bell was an appreciated presence—something Sage could attest to right away—Reya looked cute as she chatted with Ember; the Shinx roughhousing with Zephyr was charming, and the Grumpig watching over them all... was there, too.

    “~Sage?~” she asked, catching the Phantump’s attention once more. “~Did you ever want to have long hair?~”


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 24: Scars

    • Chapter 24: Scars​


    Garret had a plan.

    Despite the seriousness of the task ahead, he marched on with a smile, confident in his ability to discuss it all in the right way. His plan wasn’t the most detailed out there, and if there was anyone who knew that sometimes not even familiarity trumped the impact someone’s looks might have, it was him—but he wouldn’t let that get him down.

    His role in keeping Anne safe wasn’t as crucial as that of his wife or mom—at least, not yet—but he didn’t take it any less seriously because of that. The human girl’s future was uncertain, and if a closer chat with one of his coworkers would help her chances even a little, then that was all the motivation he needed to give it his all.

    ‘Coworkers’ as a term was... stretched, in this specific context.

    Both of their roles around the village were very fluid. They weren’t expanding fast enough for someone to be constantly tasked with working on new construction, but his mix of raw strength and decent dexterity never had to look far for a problem he could help with. Putting new buildings up or expanding existing ones was his most common task, though, and the Meowstic he was heading towards was often busy carving decorations and furniture for said buildings.

    They knew each other just enough to be relatively friendly, but not to have ever spilled their hearts to each other, which... they probably wouldn’t be able to avoid this time.

    Garret tightened his fur’s grasp on his thin limbs as he pushed on, some of the winter cold piercing through, regardless. No matter how hard he tried to keep his spirits up, this was going to be difficult, and doubts were never too far behind. Doubly so, with nobody having seen Max for the past couple of days. Thankfully, Hawthorne wasn’t bringing any worries about her dad up, which meant that whatever reason he had for keeping himself in his burrow, it wasn’t anything tragic.

    The Grimmsnarl hoped so, at least.

    Even without tragedy, his seclusion still had unnerving implications. The Meowstic was never the most courageous person out there, but he gave off the impression of being calm and composed, unlike what his present absence would’ve implied. Then again, considering what humans had done to him, it could just be the case of a fear intense enough to erode any composure.

    It would make Garret’s task here much more difficult if so—and even more necessary. He could do this; he could help his wife and the little girl out—

    “Garret,” a buzzing voice spoke, making him look off to the side—and stare the Vespiquen in the eye. Hardly the person he expected to just chat him up, leaving him with a blank, yet still intimidating expression as she continued, “What is the human’s status?”

    “Plenty good, Liz!” he answered, cheerful. “She was recovering mighty well last I saw her yesterday!”

    This time, it was he who was the receiver of a blank stare, growing blanker still as the exhausted Vespiquen slouched slightly. “I didn’t mean personal status. Are they staying or not?”

    A much drier, more matter-of-fact question that Garret had absolutely no answer for. He really, really wished he did, be it so that they could either start celebrating or figure out what to do to keep Anne safe, but ultimately it remained to be seen where the elders’ whims would go. “I—I don’t know, Liz. It’s still undecided.”

    A low, droning buzz, not letting the bee settle many of her calculations. Barring any personal like or dislike, she had to know whether they would end up with another mouth to feed or not, and the sooner she had an exact number to work off of, the sooner she could start redirecting the village’s efforts around. ‘I don’t know’ was perhaps the worst non-answer imaginable.

    She needed numbers, even if just bullshit, made up numbers.

    “That doesn’t help,” she droned out. “What is the probability of them staying?”

    The Grimmsnarl was much better with arithmetic than the bulk of the village on behalf of constantly having to calculate stuff for construction, but he only drew blanks here. It was an enigma that depended on way too many factors, many of which he wasn’t even consciously aware of, to estimate. He couldn’t come up with a concrete answer—and so, an off-the-cuff throwaway value it was. “I’m not sure—seven in ten, maybe?”

    “Naaaah, more than that,” Mikiri butted in, yanking Garret’s attention away. She was passing by them, dragging what remained of the human two-wheel behind herself through the snow.

    Liz immediately got to crunching more numbers upon hearing his estimate; not noticing the Mawile’s addendum. Whether her obliviousness was accidental or intentional, only she knew. “Seven in ten.”

    “I’m tellin’ ya, it’s more!” the metal fairy hollered.

    The Vespiquen continued, unbothered, “Seven in ten isn’t enough for certainty. Very unideal probability. Please let me know once you’re more confident.”

    “Just round it up to a ten in ten, c’mon.”

    To Mikiri’s continued annoyance, the Bug-type kept not acknowledging her existence. She hovered away shortly after, without sparing the metal fairy as much as a glance. For her efforts, she earned herself two tongues being stuck out at her before the tinkerer resumed her own trek, leaving Garret to follow in her tracks.

    Seven in ten was a very unideal probability indeed.

    Even that felt like high balling it a substantial amount, too. It felt higher than even odds for sure, but exactly how much higher was anyone’s guess, and Garret didn’t feel confident about his in the slightest. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter.—he’d still keep trying, even if it was zero.

    The thought gave him a well-needed burst of confidence as he marched on, something he really wished he could share with his wife. He really hoped Aria was okay.

    A different kind of concerned thought provided just enough distraction to let him return to his full pace. Worries swirled under his head with every step; his wife’s terrified shriek still burned into his recent memory. So unlike her for her dreams to hit her, so unlike her to ever get so scared or tear up so inconsolably—and yet, here they were. As difficult as this situation was for them all, Aria was taking on much more stress than everyone else, and it really, really showed.

    Once all was said and done later today, Garret was dead set on holding her tight for the entire night, no matter what the verdict would be. Be it comfort for her accomplishment of saving Anne, or reassurance should everything they’ve been doing to amount to nothing, she would need him more than ever.

    And he would be glad to provide.

    The mental image of the former outcome warmed his soul up as he came to a stop in front of a small shack. Max’s dwelling was rather barebones even by the standards of the village, but they made do—at least enough so to never complain about any issues that needed to be fixed. Whether that actually meant they were doing perfectly fine... depended, and there have been a few instances of recent arrivals who didn’t dare speak up about their problems because of worrying about coming off as either weak or demanding.

    He trusted Max not to fall into that trap, but ultimately, it remained to be seen. After a few more moments of hesitation than he would’ve liked, Garret knocked on the door with as much gentleness as he could muster. Less than he wished for sometimes, but hopefully just enough for the task.

    For a few moments, the dwelling only answered with silence, providing plenty of kindling for the flames of worry. What if something bad did indeed happen to him and Hawthorne was too afraid to tell anyone? What if he was too terrified to respond to someone knocking on the door? What if—

    creeeeeeak

    “G-Garret?” the familiar voice asked, soothing the Grimmsnarl’s mind as he tossed out his worries and replaced them with relief.

    Max’s gamut of expressions was almost as stilted as Garret’s, but even then the fairy could clearly pick up on him not doing too well, besides just looking plain ill. Puffy, half-lidded eyes, slightly matted fur, an occasional shiver rocking his entire small body. Still, he was here, and that’s all that mattered.

    “Good morning Max!” Garret greeted. “Are you doing alright?”

    All the Grimmsnarl got in return was a squinting, confused expression, not helping any. Suppose he needed to just speak up louder and enunciate better—easier said than done. “Are you doing alright, Max?”

    Even despite Garret doing his best to be understood, it still wasn’t enough. Not a comfortable situation for either of them, but at least the Meowstic knew what to do next. “sigh, come on—achoo!—come on in Garret, need to put my ears on for this.”

    Without waiting for a response, Max turned around and ventured into his humble home, and Garret followed. It was as plain on the inside as it was on the outside—a few pieces of furniture, a large group cot, a handful of assorted clay jars, and potted plants along the walls. Even despite the hearth burning brightly, the building remained oddly cold. There had to have been some insulation issue somewhere, and once he was done with the actual purpose of his visit, he wouldn’t mind staying longer to fix his coworker’s place.

    But before that, came a chat that the Meowstic needed to prepare himself for. With much more focus than such a simple act should require, he levitated two oblong objects into his physical grasp, and strapped them onto what remained of his ears.

    Garret didn’t know how a Meowstic ought to look. Really, almost nobody in their village did. Their sample size for many of the more uncommon species inhabiting the village was 1, leaving them assuming that every person of the said species looked exactly like the person they knew. It was very hard to recognize someone looking different without a reference point. At least, most times.

    The two scars at the tips of his single-segment ‘ears’, combined with his daughter’s appearance, clued most others about something being wrong. And while normally asking a question as blunt as ‘who cut your ears in half’ was never a good idea, it thankfully wasn’t even needed here.

    Because the answer, as with many bad things, was ‘humans’.

    Once Max was done putting the unwieldy prosthetics on, he turned to Garret again and beckoned him over to his spot beside the hearth, “There we go. Mind going over what you—achoo!—what you said there, Garret?”

    The rough imitations of what the top part of his ears would’ve looked like—folded over and almost reaching his eyes—didn’t help with psychics any, but it at least let him recover some hearing.

    “Ah, I just wanted to check up on you, Max. You’ve been gone for quite a while now; got everyone worrying!” Garret answered. His jovial tone was a bit forced, but thankfully no less received because of that.

    It brought some well-needed relief to the room, followed up by the Meowstic putting a kettle full of ice-cold water over the small, but roaring fire. “Caught something nasty a couple of days ago, dunno from where. Makes me ache all over. I doubt I’d be much help for anything in this state.”

    His words were self-evidently true, especially after a salvo of sneezes that followed. As glad as Garret was that his coworker’s absence was just a result of an illness, a check-up was only a partial reason for his presence here.

    And to his surprise, Max was aware of that, too. “Don’t worry—achoo!—it doesn’t have... too much to do with the h-human...”

    Garret was simultaneously taken aback by Max’s words and concerned about the tone change near the end. It was as if confidence evaporated from him with each word until all that remained was a pretense that neither of them believed in. In all this, though, one part stuck out to him the most. “I didn’t bring up Anne at all.”

    Despite his uncertainty, Max couldn’t help but smirk at the Grimmsnarl, “Hawthorne complained to us yesterday about Autumn having taught her and everyone else about humans—I guessed that she, and likely you too, are quite involved in the entire human ordeal. And, given that you know her name, it seems—achoo!—it seems I was right.”

    Garret might’ve wished to shrivel at being seen through so easily, but he tried not to let that get to him. Especially since, to the best of his ability to tell, Max didn’t sound offended about that. “Well... yes, you’re right. I also wanted to talk about her, if that’s alright.”

    “Oh, it is, it is. Though, I figured I wouldn’t have to go over all this again.”

    ...

    “A-again? What do you mean, Max?”

    “Oh? Elder Celia visited us yesterday evening to discuss just this topic. I would’ve thought that you knew.”

    Nope, and Garret most definitely didn’t enjoy thinking about the implications of that. He’s never had any negative interactions with the Primarina Elder, but with how concerned his wife and mom were about her, him being so as well felt warranted. “Nope, first time hearing about it. Sorry for that, can’t imagine it was one bit pleasant.”

    “Don’t worry about it,” the Meowstic reassured, “I—achoo!—I figured that the discussion would eventually reach me considering... yeah.”

    Even though the thought of spying on an Elder’s actions made the Grimmsnarl feel queasy, he couldn’t resist asking, “Out of curiosity... was she angry or anything?”

    “Hardly—I don’t even really know how she was. She just showed up, asked a few questions, hid her face behind that flipper the whole time and left before I could get her a drink. Nothing accusatory, just all flat and matter-of-fact about the human situation. Kinda like what I’m imagining you wanted to ask me, too.”

    That description didn’t feel the Fairy-type with even the slightest bit of confidence. “Well, I suppose there’s gonna be some overlap—”

    “You wanted to ask me what was my opinion about the human possibly staying here considering my past, r-right?” Max asked, matter-of-factly. Garret’s taken-aback look told him everything, and so did the Meowstic’s amused chuckle tell the Grimmsnarl in return as he continued, “It’s alright. To sum up what I told Celia... absent any context, I wouldn’t want the human to stay, no.”

    Dense silence filled the room as the demon processed the response, eyes growing wider. Before he could ask for an elaboration, or even plead his case, the water in the kettle finally announced its readiness, distracting Max away from the tense discussion.

    Garret wouldn’t have ever guessed that there’d be a situation where a cup of warm tea couldn’t help in calming down—and yet, here he was. Fortunately for him and his task, though, Max wasn’t done, “However... I’ve gathered from a few rumors and what Hawthorne had overheard that this isn’t just a random human. Hell, I sincerely doubt anyone would be seriously arguing for them to stay unless there was a damn good reason for it, and that alone makes me reconsider it. It’s...”

    Max had to pause and dig his mind for words, his confidence waning by the moment.

    “It’s not that I hate them specifically, even hate humans as a whole or anything, it’s... it’s just scary. The thought of seeing a human scares me. I—achoo!—I have a nightmare sometimes, of a human silhouette barging through my front door and hurting everyone I know. No matter how hard I try not to think about it, that—that association doesn’t go away, and I don’t know how many nigh-sleepless nights it’ll take for it to leave me alone.”

    He took a deep breath, followed by as large of a sip of the hot tea as he could, having to lift the heavy wooden cup with both paws. “And if what I’ve gathered overall is true, that it’s really a choice between that human staying here or possibly death... then their wellbeing trumps my silly, irrational discomfort.”

    As relieved as Garret was, there was a part of that response he wanted to home in on, “It’s not irrational, Max. You’ve got good reasons to be spooked, I get it.”

    “I don’t recall ever going over it all with you specifically, hah,” the Meowstic chuckled.

    “Well... yes, you never have, but with a fear as intense as that, there has to be something that caused it.”

    “You’re not wrong, don’t worry.”

    With a moment of downtime, both men could enjoy a good sip of tea as they gathered their thoughts. Garret calmed down at the thrust of his visit turning out successful. It really was a life-or-death situation, and Max expressed clearly that, in that case, Anne’s life was more important than his discomfort. It felt a bit... rushed, though, and didn’t really match up with what he’d heard about Hawthorne, piquing his curiosity further.

    “Thank you for a thoughtful answer, Max. Makes ya wonder where’d Hawthorne get her attitude from...” the Grimmsnarl muttered, wincing at the drawn out, regretful exhale that immediately followed.

    Regardless of if the Meowstic was hiding something from him, the point about his daughter struck true. Garret wasn’t expecting to catch his coworker on a lie, and so didn’t act suspicious—merely really, really curious about what Hawthorne’s deal was. Soon, Max responded, “It does, I’m aware. Me and my wife should’ve been more forceful in getting these attitudes out of her when we first heard them. By now they’ve all festered and I worry it’s too late to change anything.”

    “I wouldn’t say that, Max. Kids are smart, especially ones as old as Hawthorne.”

    “I know, I know, but—achoo!—it’s still difficult to convey a more nuanced attitude. No matter if I’m afraid of humans or not, they’re no more universally evil than we’re universally good, and I don’t even think humanity as a whole is some malignant force. I’ve no idea how to tell her that in a way that doesn’t sound like me backtracking on what I said.”

    The Grimmsnarl pondered on that question for all of fifteen seconds before coming up with an answer, of which ten were spent downing a good sip of the tea. “Why not backtrack on what you said? If you told her something that’s just outright wrong, then correcting her isn’t a bad idea. She’s old enough to know that her parents aren’t always right.”

    “I meant it in the sense that anything I say will sound fake. As if I’m being overly polite because that’s what others want to hear, whereas a harsher, more intolerant attitude is my ‘real’ one. Not true in the slightest, but I have no idea how to prove it to her—believe me, I’ve tried, it just doesn’t stick.”

    Now that was a much tougher question.

    Correcting oneself was one thing, but doing so to someone who didn’t interpret anything beyond your original words as genuine was... challenging, bordering on impossible. Garret didn’t have any magical advice. He hoped under his breath that he wouldn’t ever end up in a situation like this with any of his children, especially when it concerned something important.

    Garret discarded the simple suggestions such as saying it from the heart or being as genuine as can be. If he could think them up in a minute, then most definitely so could Max, and they just didn’t end up working for one reason or another. Though... he had one more idea. “It sounds like you need to show it to her, not just say it.”

    Just as with Garret’s other ideas, Max had thought about this one a bunch of times in the past, before inevitably discarding it because of it just being impossible. No way to dissuade his daughter’s hatred of humans without having a human to interact with. Even now that it was more possible, all the Meowstic could think of was just how much he didn’t want to do that. No matter how nuanced his abstract opinion of them was, he was entirely content to never see another human ever again.

    But if it was the only way to get his daughter to stop being so virulently hateful, it looked like he’d have to. “I... I guess. It—achoo!—it’s terrifying to think about, but you’re right. Either way, not something I can do here and now, and likely not until the human ends up staying for good,” the Meowstic sighed. “Just... wished I had more restraint so that things never got this bad to begin with.”

    Max’s words snapped Garret’s attention back over to him, their implication worryingly uncertain. Was he blaming himself for just Hawthorne, or for the entirety of his present state? “What—whatcha mean, Max?”

    “I—I told her too much at too young of an age, I think. She was curious about what happened to my ears, so I told her. Asked me about humans, so I told her that too. I wasn’t keeping any secrets from her, even though now I think I really should have, in hindsight. Well—not ‘secrets’ secrets, but things that she was just too young for, things that she shouldn’t have had to hear when so little. It was too much detail for her, I could tell, but I just couldn’t stop. I,” the Meowstic shuddered, his entire small self huddling closer to his mug, “I worry I’ve scarred her with what I’ve told her. She just got scared and angry; so much of the nuance went over her head, but it was enough for the worst of it to just burn itself into her mind forever.”

    Garret took a larger sip as he chewed through Max’s words. His situation was messed up and perfectly understandable simultaneously, and he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t leave him a bit conflicted about his coworker’s character. Then again, he hadn’t endured as much trauma as the Meowstic clearly has; he was in no place to judge.

    ...

    Judge too harshly, at least. “If you don’t mind, Max... what did you tell her?”

    The Meowstic let out a dry chuckle, the accompanying smile painfully fake. This discussion obviously wasn’t getting anywhere further without him going over just what he’d told his daughter—and by extension, telling the tale of his past once more. “Figure going through what I’ve been through will help to explain it, yes...”

    Garret lifted an eyebrow at his question being warped right in front of him. Before he could speak up in protest about it, Max explained himself, “I—kachow!—I know that’s not what you asked for, Garret, but the two are one and the same, pretty much. A recollection of the same awful events either way.”

    The Grimmsnarl wasn’t entirely convinced, but went along with it. Max obviously knew better, and this didn’t sound like any sort of malicious, intentionally construed lie. He nodded, “Alrighty. I hope it’s not too much to go over all that, then.”

    “No, no, not anymore. For better or worse, I’ve mostly grown numb to it by now,” the Meowstic sighed. Once he’d gathered his thoughts, he began his recollection proper, “I don’t remember a lot from the earliest parts of my life. To the best of my knowledge, I was with my human from the moment I hatched. She lived in a small house with only me, and since she left for a human job early each day, I spent a lot of time alone.”

    That sounded... unpleasant. “Huh. You were left alone for hours as a hatchling?”

    “Not quite hatchling, but... yes. I didn’t mind a whole lot, since it was warm and she left me plenty of food and water. Or, at least, I don’t remember minding at that point. One day, though... I had a slip-up.”

    Garret nodded and took a big sip of the tea, still following along.

    “I don’t recall what caused it, really. I probably just got scared by a loud sound, but the next thing I remember was staring at a shattered table and half of a wardrobe, together with other damage around it.”

    “Did... you do that?” Garret asked.

    “Oh yes, yes. Espurr are… surprisingly powerful. Disastrously so, occasionally, and without the right ways of managing stress, that kind of power can sometimes just... slip out. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I had been raised by other Meowstic, maybe it still would and they would’ve been able to handle that much better; I—achoo!—I don’t know.”

    “How did... ‘your human’ react?”

    “She was terrified,” Max shuddered. “Not that I can blame her, but it didn’t help either of us. I felt her get scared, so then I got scared, and I remembered us both panicking for a good while after. I didn’t want that to happen again, didn’t want to accidentally hurt her, and we both feared that I would do that by accident. The next thing I really remember, probably a few weeks later, was waking up one morning, a-and—” he cut himself off as his voice wavered. Instead, he pointed up at where the scars on his ears were, the implication obvious. “Just... one day I woke up, and suddenly had almost none of my psychics remaining, and was partially deaf.”

    “I’m so sorry, Max, that’s terrible...”

    “Really, I thought I’d gotten over the worst of it by now, but seems not. Guess something like that never really just leaves us alone, no matter how much we think we may have it under control at the moment. I’ll—I’ll get over it, don’t worry, it just hit me hard there.”

    The Meowstic took his time taking deep breaths as his coworker stared at him in concern before continuing, “A-alright, I think I’m okay now. So, one day I wake up, and the tops of my ears are gone. For Espurr and Meowstic, it’s where a good chunk of our psychics are stored, so without them, it’s so much harder to do anything. And it scared me. It felt like the entire world had suddenly gone so, so quiet, and I didn’t understand why. What was left of my ears hurt a lot; I couldn’t keep my balance; I kept bumping into things, and—and it all just hurt. But... that wasn’t even the worst part.”

    Garret lifted an eyebrow, a small shudder accompanying the gesture.

    “You know, before then, I felt her caring for me. She wasn’t home as often as I wished she would be, and tended to be very busy, but... I could feel her affection for me. Even when she was stressed and didn’t have time to play with me or whatever, I could still just lay down near her and feel better. But after that, I... I couldn’t sense that anymore, I just didn’t have any way to. It’s as if all that warmth had just disappeared. That was even scarier than losing all my psychics.”

    The Dark-type couldn’t relate exactly, but his imagination provided him with plenty of fuel for his empathy, anyway. His kids couldn’t sense his love for them directly, of course, but they still saw it clearly every day. His words, his affection, his pride, being there for them when they felt down, or like they didn’t fit, or for any of a dozen other reasons. And to imagine them losing not just that, but also what amounted to both of their arms all at once, without even being able to ask for an explanation, was...

    It was Garret that needed a moment to recover this time, the awfulness of the mental image almost making him cry there and then. As soon as had the chance later today, he would go there and hug his kids tight and there wasn’t an earthly force that could stop him. Just had to find out where ‘there’ was, but that was a footnote. “Good gods, that’s—I don’t have words, Max.”

    “I... yeah. It was awful. Afterwards, I was even more scared, but didn’t have a way of expressing it anymore. No telepathy, and without telekinesis, I could barely do anything by myself. And since my fear wasn’t as noticeable now, she just couldn’t spot it, either. She’d spend even less time with me, got even busier, and all I could do was run in circles around a house that was barely twice or thrice the size of this one.”

    This time, instead of further sorrow, Garret saw his paw clench to his side, a flat expression turning into a scowl.

    “And she stopped taking me places. Before then, I have faint memories of seeing the outside world, plenty of other humans, some grass and trees, fresh air—but that also was just gone after whatever happened to my ears. For a while, I thought that I really deserved it all. That I had done something terrible by breaking that table by accident, and that this was my punishment. After I evolved, even without my ears, I could just barely make out her thoughts sometimes, so I would just... sneak up on her. Try to sense all I could, figure out the why of it all, get an answer, any answer, and—” the Meowstic paused, trying to keep his rage from pouring out even further. Instead, a couple of tears slipped out from underneath his eyelids as he continued, “She thought she was doing me a favor.”

    Out of all the possible answers, this was the one the Dark-type expected the least of all; staring at his friend, aghast. “H-how could she have thought that?”

    “I don’t know. Maybe—maybe some twisted idea that if I couldn’t do my psychics, then I wouldn’t have had to worry about accidentally damaging anything else anymore, which...”

    Another pause to catch his breath, another opportunity for his anger to condense into sadness.

    “I was already resentful of it all by that point. Being stuck in that tiny house, unable to do anything, unable to even figure out any human items. The couple of ‘toys’ she brought me for entertainment got either broken or I was too sick of them to even look at them anymore. I felt imprisoned; I felt angry, and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. My claws were quite grown out by then, so I just started scratching things. Anything, everything, just to show her, show how furious I was—all I got for it was a trimming session that I eventually gave up fighting against. She had won, and I had lost.”

    “It beggars belief how that human could’ve thought she was doing anything but being abusive towards you...” Garred muttered, taken aback.

    “It does, doesn’t it? Though... I think she knew, but she just had no idea what to do with me.”

    “Even putting just letting you go aside, couldn’t she have handed you off to a safer human house?”

    “You’d think, but... I don’t think she could have, actually. For all the awful things they do, I think my—my ears having been cut off was still against human rules. At least, I think that was the case because of what happened some time later.”

    Max had Garret’s entire focus, expressed through an intense nod.

    “One day, she accidentally left a window unlocked, and I took the opportunity to get out. I climbed out, escaped, and just... ran around the area for a while. I barely recognized some of these places, but each time I did it made me happy, and oh goodness, there was so much greenness out there. She only kept a single plant in a clay pot in her house, and I forgot just how much grass and trees there were outside!”

    The second-hand euphoria at breaking out was marred by how disturbing it was to hear something as omnipresent as trees be described that way.

    “But then, I—I kept running into humans. And they feared me. Whether it was because I was a Meowstic, or because of the missing ears, I don’t know. But it just happened almost every time. I’d keep walking away, but then some of them would start using their ‘phone’ things that my human used at home, and I got just the worst fear that something bad would happen to me if I stayed there. I couldn’t have been out for more than a couple hours, but I was terrified by the end, at that overwhelming fear coming my way. I—I managed to get back home, and hid in the darkest corner until my human came back.”

    By now, Max was shaking fearfully in place, barely maintaining his composure.

    “These random humans were scared of me, then once my human came back home she was scared of me too, and I was scared of them all. B-but then, in the evening of that day, some more humans showed up, with scary blue uniforms. I saw them talking to my human; they spotted me and got alarmed while my human got scared, and I hid again. Squeezed myself into a tiny nook behind some furniture while they were still talking to my human, and didn’t dare to move. Then they kept searching for me, and they just wouldn’t stop for hours and I stood in place and it hurt and I was afraid I got myself stuck and I wouldn’t have been able to escape on my own and—”

    pat-pat

    The Meowstic flinched at the unexpected sensation, eyes shooting open to see a dark-haired hand patting his shoulders. More startling than comfortable, but he appreciated the gesture. Garret spoke up, “Apologies if that was too much, felt you going down that dark path and wanted to help.”

    “Suppose distraction helps with that, too. Th-thank you, Garret. Anyway—they kept searching for me for hours, almost found me a couple of times, but eventually left. I waited for a while longer afterwards, then managed to force my way out of that spot, all wet with tears. It was all dark, there was a thunderstorm outside, my human was gone, I had no idea what had happened, but I knew I needed to get out before they came back. The windows were closed, and I scratched and pounded at them for ages, trying to break through. I didn’t know how to use any moves; I just kept bashing my body against it and prayed it would shatter.”

    “What happened then?”

    “I looked around the house for anything that could help, and found a small hammer. It finally started making cracks, so I kept hitting it, put all my strength and all the psychics I had into it, and eventually it just exploded into a rain of glass. I didn’t wait any longer and just jumped through. I felt the pieces scratch me from all around and the cold rain drench me, but I knew I couldn’t stop. Took off toward where I remembered all the trees being and ran. And ran, and ran, and ran, until I couldn’t run anymore.”

    By the time Max had finished his tale, his breathing was little more than anxious gasps. He stared unfocused at the floor as the recollection finished washing over him. He had no idea how long it’d take for him to truly calm down again after all that, but that was a problem for later.

    “Then, the next thing I know, I was here. Sprout had spotted me when scouting, and brought me over. And then... just an even larger, much more relieved blur.”

    “I’m—I’m really glad you found safety here in the end, Max. All that sounds like an utter nightmare.”

    The Meowstic took a while catching his breath and focusing back on the world around him. Then, once he’d calmed himself down somewhat, he continued, “Oh, it... it was, at times. Most of the time it was just—just a boring torture. I thought it wouldn’t get to me as much this time, but I suppose I was wrong. I-it got me thinking too, because I liked some things from when I lived there, you know. I had no idea what a godsend running water was until I had to make do without it here. And indoor heating, gods I’d spend so much time sleeping beside the radiators in the winter.”

    That was an entire tangent that Garret didn’t expect in the slightest, leaving him really curious to see where it’d go.

    “I just wonder why they have to be the way they are. These things I mentioned are tiny compared to many others. The sheer standard of living there is so much higher than here, but that doesn’t matter if they keep all that to themselves. And now I’m thinking why. Why do they treat us the way they do; why do we have to hide from them; why do their ‘trainers’ enslave us, and...”

    The flimsiest deep breath the Grimmsnarl had ever seen, only barely interrupting Max’s revelation.

    “And I think it’s all borne of fear. As much as I fear them, as much as we all fear them and what they can do to us if they band together—I think they’re just as afraid of us, if not more. In a one-on-one, almost any mon could kill almost any unarmed human and it wouldn’t even be close. I think that’s why they want to contain us so much. It’s not hatred—not just hatred, and whatever hatred there is has to come from that fear. And you know what the worst thing is?”

    Garret was too busy processing Max’s revelation to respond, but that didn’t stop him.

    “I have no idea how it could ever change. Even if all humans just gave up a-and said to the entire world that they wouldn’t try catching us ever again... there’d be many, many mons that would use that as an opportunity for revenge—even a good few in this very village. And the other way, if mons as a whole tried to lower their guard, we’d all end up getting contained and exploited. Are we just stuck like this? Forced to hide from humanity forever? Will—will anything ever get better?”

    There weren’t answers to these questions, and both men knew that fact very well. But while Garret might’ve seen the obvious implication of that fact and looked away, Max didn’t, and was being increasingly sucked into a vortex of despair—

    pat-pat!

    Nothing a bit of percussive maintenance couldn’t help with, though.

    If nothing else, it startled the Meowstic out of his train of thought, leaving him blinking at his coworker. Garret didn’t consider himself a particularly intelligent person, not like Jovan, or Ana, or even his wife was. Still, he liked to think he got a couple of things figured out, and this area was one of them. “Y’know, thinking about this kinda stuff helps nobody. If we can improve the world, we should, but if we can’t, fretting about it won’t do us any good. It’ll just make us all the more miserable—at least that’s how I see it. Whattcha think?”

    The swerve away from the previous topic came from the left field, but Max couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate it. It felt boorish to admit it, but Garret had a point. The last thing the Meowstic needed was to be sucked further into despair, especially with so much happening.

    “I—I think I agree. Thank you, Garret. For that—achoo!—and for giving me an opportunity to chew through all this. I may have gone through it all over a dozen times now, but... something clicked this time that didn’t before. I promise not to get too depressed about it, but goodness, I’ll need some time alone to finish processing it all.”

    “Well, you’re very welcome, Max! Thank you plenty for having me. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be heading out in not too long—just noticed one thing when I stepped in.” The Meowstic raised a single eyebrow as the Grimmsnarl explained, “It’s weirdly cold in here. There’s a hole in your wall somewhere.”

    Max groaned as if half his soul had left him, topped off with the weakest nod Garret had ever seen.

    “I miss concrete...”

    A few hundred meters away from her son, Autumn was taking the winter head on.

    Granted, that might’ve been because she forgot to take her shawl with her in her haste and had to resort to focusing much harder than usual on her Safeguard, but she was doing it anyway. She had little spare brainpower to focus on her bodily sensations, though, not with the trouble she was likely getting herself into.

    That Banette felt suspicious the moment she saw him. And with his reaction to Sage’s group hug, it felt like her concerns about him had been justified. She knew full well that him leaving could’ve meant many things, some much more innocuous than others—but it had to mean something, and considering the graveness of Sage’s past, Autumn didn’t want to stop until she knew just what was the older ghost’s deal.

    She would’ve really preferred if she wasn’t being led out of the village in pursuit of him.

    Even if she was safe against whichever Ghost-type moves he could use on her, the other types were still fair game. No matter how much of an expert at Protects and other defensive moves she was, she knew as well as anyone that with no offense of her own, all pure defense would accomplish was forcing the attacker to be more patient.

    Of course, all that presumed that it’d come to blows. A possibility that Autumn was reasonably confident wouldn’t happen, but her fears disagreed. And now, it was time to see whether they would be proven right.

    Out of everything she expected Yaksha to be doing once she’d finally caught up to him, Shadow Clawing away at a random, snow-covered tree wasn’t it. Each strike was accompanied by a grunt of equal parts rage and regret; each grew ever more potent. None of them physically damaged the tree, but they still eroded it, draining it of whichever passive, motionless life it held—until it couldn’t take any more.

    After one last strike, the brittle wood finally shattered under its own weight, sending the log falling toward them both. And while the Banette was either too paralyzed or too unwilling to move out of the way, the Indeedee didn’t have that limitation.

    Autumn shrieked as her eyes were overcome with a green flare, her aura enveloping the entire tree. It only lasted a second or so, but even that was enough to redirect it away from them, if at the cost of a pounding headache and draining the elderly Normal-type of much of her remaining strength.

    Leaving her defenseless before the grief-stricken ghost.

    “~What the hell are you doing here!?~” Yaksha asked; ethereal voice overflowing with fury as his pink eyes drilled into the Indeedee’s very soul.

    A part of her wanted to turn and run, but the rest wanted—no, demanded answers. “I can ask—pant—I can ask you the same question. Why did you run, do you have something to do with what happened to Sage—”

    “~How DARE you claim that!?~”

    Their stare-down had turned into a powder keg in an instant. No matter how righteous in her indignation the Indeedee felt, a more restrained part of her knew nothing good would happen if she pushed the envelope further. She still didn’t trust him one bit, but figured she could take a half step back, even if she didn’t mean it. “I-I’m not, and I apologize for the insinuation. Still, I need to know for Sage’s sake—why did you run?”

    Hearing an apology was more effective than Autumn could’ve ever imagined. Instead of calming the Banette down, it outright stunned him; much of his ever intensifying fury evaporated in an instant. It took a while before he found the composure to respond, tone having switched from aggression to... discomfort. “~That’s—that’s none of your business.~”

    “Maybe, but as her guardian, it’s definitely Sage’s business. We both want the best for her, don’t we?”

    Yaksha had a hard time disagreeing with that logic, much to his unease. He despised having to be introspective like that, only pushing through that dislike because of the ghostly girl. Any other time he’d tried descending that route, he only found a bottomless lake of hateful tears.

    “~It’s... I failed her. I’ve been protecting her for weeks now, but couldn’t make her anywhere near as happy as your entire bunch did in the time it took me to nap. I fucked up the only thing that gave this entire existence any purpose, the only thing I had left.~”

    The admission took Autumn aback, unexpected in its clarity. It didn’t answer everything, it barely even answered anything, but it made for a great jumping off point. “What do you mean by ‘the only thing you had left’?”

    The question made the Banette grow more distressed. For a moment, the Indeedee worried about that emotion reverting to anger, but thankfully, it turned towards despair instead. “~I don’t have anything else. It’s been years, decades since I woke up in this body, and I remember nothing from before I met Sage, and nothing before I first died. Watching over her is the only thing I have, that I ever remember having. If I can’t do that, if I can’t even do this one fucking thing...~”

    To Autumn’s fear, his fury made a swift return, aimed at the entire world.

    “~THEN WHY AM I STILL HERE?~”​

    She watched his body go limp as he turned his face to the sky and unzipped his mouth all the way, letting the pink tendrils of whichever spectral energy that controlled him lash out at the nearby air. It didn’t last more than half a second, but it left the Indeedee slowly reeling backwards. And then; she stopped.

    He might not have felt like he had a purpose anymore, but she did. “I—I don’t know. But what I do know is that no matter what mistakes you’ve made previously, you can still fix them. Nothing stops you from being someone who makes Sage happy, nothing stops you from treating her and others more kindly. Or from staying here for good, if that makes her the happiest.” Emboldened, she approached closer; elderly body shaking in the cold as she continued, “You can change, Yaksha. We all can. Do you want to change?”

    “~Yes, of course I do! Why the hell wouldn’t I!?~”

    “Good. Then I’ll try to help however I can, especially if you two will stay here for longer.”

    She sensed the tiniest seed of gratitude within him, before the addition at the end turned it right back into mockery. “~Here? With a human?~”

    “Why not? Sage is a human ghost—”

    “~YOU’RE LYING—GAH!~”

    His momentary outburst ended as soon as it had begun, stunning the Indeedee as the Banette gripped his head. It hurt, all of this hurt; it was as if an invisible knife was stabbing his mind. Agony beyond description, making him fear he was about to finally fade away. And then, it eased out, bit by bit, the wounds of unknown origin gradually mending.

    He was still certain this random mon must’ve been lying, but it clearly wasn’t worth getting this angry over either way.

    “~I... nevermind. I think I’m—I’m better now.~”

    Especially since no matter what their pasts were...

    “~Could you... guide me back?~”

    ...he wanted to be there for Sage until his very end.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 25: Hell

    • Chapter 25: Hell​


    CONTENT WARNING    : Torture, Self-Harm

    “~C'mon, keep up!~”

    The schoolgirl stared over her shoulder with a flat expression, foot tapping on the underbrush as she waited for her classmate to catch up with her.

    Despite her determination, though, he wasn’t anywhere near as eager for their entire plan, especially as it hit him just how bad this entire trip could go. “~S-Susie, maybe we really should t-turn back—~”

    “~Joeeeeey, I told you nothing bad’s gonna happen!~”

    “~B-but it’s still a wild Mismagius!~”

    “~It’s our Mismagius, it won’t hurt us!~”

    The boy was well aware of the bespoke local attraction of a ghost not having hurt anyone in recorded history, but that fact filled him with much less confidence than he hoped it would. Nice or not, it was still a wild mon, a powerful wild mon, a powerful wild mon that really enjoyed scaring the nearby kids. Encountering it in person was all but a codified rite of passage at their shoddy little school—enough so to make the headmaster put up larger and larger fences in the backyard to stop them from doing just that—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

    He would never forget all the examples his personal safety classes gave of just how much wild mons could hurt them. “~C-can’t you do it on your own then? I’ll be back—~”

    Before he could even finish turning around, Joey found himself being dragged backwards by the collar of his shirt.

    “~You promised it’d be both of us!~” His friend reminded. “~Nothing bad is gonna happen to us, come ooooon!~”

    “~T-the headmaster is gonna be so upset...~”

    “~She’s upset at everyone; we’ll be fine. Sigh...~”

    After having to waddle in reverse for the past few moments to keep his balance, the boy suddenly could stand up straight again. Susie pleaded, distraught, “~Don’t you wanna meet it, Joey? Not every hole in the ground has their own friendly ghost, you know.~”

    That particular line of persuasion was much more effective, giving the boy a pause. It was true, ’their’ Mismagius sure looked to be much friendlier than almost all other wild mons—and definitely more so than other wild ghosts—but it still left doubts. What if one moment it would just... stop being friendly? What if they suddenly went from an undead prankster landmark to an active threat that the League would have to send someone in to deal with?

    He’s had this kind of chat many times in the past, both with Susie and his other classmates. They were right in that nothing stopped a human with a gun from also turning on their friends on a whim and killing them in moments, but it never quite sat right with him. The distinction between man and mon was still there, right?

    Wild mons loved to fight, after all. That was supposed to be the one trait they all shared, the love of fighting that was then fulfilled in league battles. Obviously, ’their’ Mismagius would’ve been battling plenty in its ‘spare’ time and getting their fill that way, but what if it just didn’t? What if it had to make do with using them as targets for its practice? It was dumb; it didn’t sound all too plausible even for him, but it was still possible, right?

    And if it happened, there would be absolutely nothing they could do to save themselves.

    “~Joey?~” his friend asked.

    The body shuddered, “~S-sorry, it’s... it’s scary.~”

    “~A bit, but it’s gonna be alright! Worst case happens you can use me as a meat shield, ha!~”

    Susie’s joking tone sent a shiver down Joey’s back as he begrudgingly continued. No matter how much he wanted to turn back, he knew he’d be kicking himself down for not taking the chance, even without taking others’ goading into account. Plus, there were a couple of trainers in Lillywood right now, right? They’d keep them all safe.

    That’s what they were here for, after all.

    “~Okay, I think we’re there!~” the girl squeed as her friend took the area in. All that distinguished this particular stretch of snowy woodland from any other one was its thick, suffocating silence.

    Already their companion before then; it had grown more intense in here, even getting to Susie. She asked, “~Can you see it anywhere?~”

    The boy looked over his shoulder before completing a full spin, not making out any purple amidst the hibernating trees. “~N-no—~”

    crack!

    The sound of a snapping stick had both schoolkids dash over to the nearest tree, trying to peek from behind it. Their hearts hammered, their eyes dashed to the sides, their ears desperately tried to hear something, anything. Again and again, only them, only the wintry forest, only silence.

    “~Do you think that was it?~” Susie whispered, making Joey shake harder as he grew close to hyperventilating. Knowing about the infamous ghost was one thing; feeling like he was now completely at its mercy was worse, much worse.

    His feet felt rooted to the dirt and his hands to the rough, dark bark; mind bounced between ‘flight’ and ‘freeze’ like a pinball machine. “~I-I hope not, please t-turn back...~”

    “~Come—come on, it has to be near—~”

    “What are you two looking for...?”​

    The sequence of actions played out just like dozens of others Cypress had seen and caused in the past, letting her savor the scares around her as her prediction was fulfilled yet again. A pair of screams, some shrieked words, then two sets of steps racing away, nourishing and amusing her in equal measure—

    ...

    Oh...?

    A louder thud ended one set of crunching steps, breaking the routine. The associated fearful emotions seemed to have stopped in place too—and only kept growing stronger. Unusual, but hardly something she couldn’t handle. Though she would likely need a more... gentle approach here. Cheap scares were one thing, but the kind of terror going through this kid’s head was downright dangerous, if not resolved quickly.

    Taking a deep breath, Cypress opened her eyes and looked around, the sight confirming her other senses. One of the kids had indeed tripped, and now was attempting to play dead. Badly. A silly course of action when dealing with ghosts in its own right, though ultimately understandable. Especially when born of a genuine, itself-haunting fear of death.

    Something Cypress could help with, at least.

    After floating over to the curled up child—whistling a cheerful tune the entire time to let them know where she was—the Mismagius got to work with her chants. This one she hadn’t had to use too often, the incident with Anne a couple of days ago notwithstanding. She was really glad it worked then, and was reasonably confident it would do so now, too.

    Ethereal sounds wove themselves into an eldritch chant, its impact perceptible right away. The child’s hammering heart eased out by the moment, as did the powerful shaking that gripped them. Word by word, Cypress devoured their terror, sating herself while leaving only a cool calmness behind. Hardly the most nourishing of treats, especially when this intense, but between the undead equivalent to a heartburn and this innocent kid possibly developing a traumatic disorder, Cypress knew which one she preferred.

    By the time she was done, the lil’ human had gone from being certain they were about to die, to observing her floating horizontally above them with curiosity. Not the most subtle of shifts, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated.

    “There we go. Now let’s get you up...” the Mismagius whispered, reaching over to grasp the child’s hand with her tendrils. Even after she began to pull, it took them a while to piece together what she was doing; muted calmness turning to slight embarrassment as they picked themselves up. By the time they were on their feet, their friend had finally emerged from behind the nearby tree and dared to get closer again.

    Not wanting to waste a good spooking opportunity, Cypress had hovered right in front of their friend’s face in the time it took them to take a step. It sent them scrambling backwards with enough suddenness to make their hat fall off, unleashing more long hair than the ghost expected to see. The first kid found it funny, letting the Mismagius laugh at the second one’s expense guilt-free.

    She was glad that she could help her friends and people in this silly way.

    Once the second child was up again, the two humans exchanged some words for a while, contents unknown beyond a general feeling of excitement. Hardly unearned, making her feel a bit proud for turning this nigh-accident around. Both the kids were fine now; they each got their thrills—and now, it was time for them to leave.

    The Scary Face that followed was as gentle as the Mismagius could manage. Enough to send them scrambling with some fright, but not to elicit the same ‘I’m going to die’ reaction as earlier. Hell, it was weak enough for the two kids to even break out into laughter in the distance; the ghost not hesitating to join them once she’d heard the telltale sound.

    Cypress sometimes felt bad that her particular role as a scout was so amusing, whereas everyone else’s... wasn’t.

    They had all reassured her they didn’t mind, and even the Elders had stressed that being a living distraction was immensely helpful, but the doubts kept creeping back up, anyway. Could be Anne’s messy situation, could be her pushing this one kid way too hard earlier, could be her forgetting to bring Anne breakfast and leaving the poor kid starving for half of yesterday.

    Having to use her own advice wasn’t ever pleasant, but sometimes she needed it.

    Her people trust her, and it’s only right for her to extend that grace to herself.

    Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t reflect and think about where she’d gone wrong. Her usual whispered jumpscare tended to work just fine for kids the age of these two, slightly older than Anne. She hadn’t had anyone react too intensely to one of those in a while, and wondered how much of that was her versus any preexisting fear.

    ...

    Yeah, it was likely the latter. Little she could do but try to rein it back next time. It was a bit worrisome considering Anne’s situation, though, and Cypress hoped that their oversized reaction had nothing to do with the other human’s disappearance. Sure didn’t feel like it did, at least.

    And now; it was time to wait for the next group of thrill-seeking kids.

    Over the past few years, she’d come up with a pretty simple mental flowchart on how to scare the different age groups coming her way. Younger kids needed forewarning, even something as underwhelming as her just slowly floating at them from a distance was plenty scary. Many of the oldest kids, though, needed more to really get them rattled, up to and including a weak Hex to confuse them combined with an Astonish.

    Some didn’t care about any of that either way, and just... hung out in the vicinity sometimes. Cypress liked to think she remembered all the ‘regulars’ by now, enough to skip on any frights in the future—except for the adrenaline junkies that came over specifically to get absolutely spooked. Definitely a couple of repeat offenders like that, the thought making the Mismagius chuckle, echoing through the cold woods.

    Hmm.

    Oh dear, she’d spent so much time thinking that she hadn’t even noticed more humans approach. Focusing on them, she clearly recognized the two kids from earlier, paired with a third, slightly older aura. One of the older kids came to escort them back here? She supposed that deserved another of her typical openings—

    Suddenly, a movement in her peripheral vision, something flying at her,

    And darkness.





    …







    What is…     ​

    you will be safe you are safe it will be okay it will be okay there is nothing to fear it will be okay

    Is this a dream... ​

    a better life awaits you you are loved you are loved i love you you will love it you are loved a better life awaits you i love you no more worries a better life awaits you i won't hurt you

    No, this isn't real, where am I... ​

    you belong here i love you your past was hell give in this is your purpose you belong here i won't hurt you i will save you this is your purpose give in you are lost on your own give in your past was hell no more pain your past was hell the wilderness hurts you will love it

    No, it wasn't, I have friends, I have family... ​

    it will be okay it will be okay give in you have no choice you have no choice you love this feeling you have no choice i love you give in i love you you will die on your own you have no choice you will die on your own you want this this is your purpose you need this you will die on your own you have no choice you want this i love you it will be okay this or death you need this you love this feeling

    This is a lie, let go of me… ​

    i love you struggling is pointless i love you don't fight this you want this let it happen i love you let it happen you love this feeling i will save you i love you you are mine struggling is pointless i love you you love this feeling you are mine don't fight this you need this you want this you are mine struggling is pointless don't fight this you want this give in let it happen you are mine

    LET GO OF ME! ​

    you are mine you have no choice you are mine it will be okay I LOVE YOU you love this feeling I LOVE YOU you love this feeling i will save you you have no choice i will save you you have no choice I LOVE YOU it will be okay it will be okay i will save you I LOVE YOU submit struggling is pointless you love this feeling give in submit it will be okay it will be okay let it happen don't fight this it will be okay submit it will be okay don't fight this you have no choice you love this feeling submit let it happen YOU WANT THIS

    I ​

    i will save you give in you can't resist give up give in i will save you i will save you i will save you I LOVE YOU YOU NEED THIS submit YOU NEED THIS YOU NEED THIS give in you can't resist give up give in you can't resist submit I LOVE YOU give up i will save you give in submit i will save you i will save you i will save you I LOVE YOU YOU NEED THIS give in i will save you YOU NEED THIS YOU NEED THIS submit I LOVE YOU i will save you I LOVE YOU let it happen give up i will save you give in give up i will save you

    ALREADY ​

    GIVE IN YOU LOVE THIS you can't resist submit LET IT HAPPEN give up submit YOU LOVE THIS submit you can't resist GIVE IN YOU NEED THIS SURRENDER YOU NEED THIS SURRENDER submit YOU LOVE THIS SURRENDER SURRENDER submit SURRENDER SURRENDER YOU NEED THIS I LOVE YOU GIVE IN give up YOU LOVE THIS LET IT HAPPEN you can't resist YOU NEED THIS I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU YOU NEED THIS SURRENDER give up GIVE IN give up YOU NEED THIS give up GIVE IN YOU NEED THIS YOU LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU YOU LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU YOU NEED THIS submit give up SURRENDER submit give up I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU YOU NEED THIS YOU NEED THIS give up

    HAVE ​

    GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN GIVE IN

    A HOME! ​

    An instant later, the world had returned.

    And everything hurt.

    Her soul was crushed, her mind was torn. She had been shoved out of the warmest, most blissful sensation of her existence into the frigid nothing. It wasn’t real, but it blinded her all the same; tormented her through its disappearance.

    A part of her begged for that warmth to return no matter how large a price—she needed it, it would keep her safe, it would keep her loved! She resisted the call, but knew that no earthly joy could replicate the lie that had almost crushed her mind in its grasp.

    Her eyes looked, but could barely see.

    On the snow beneath her, scraps of metal, of white, of black, of yellow. In the distance, the two children from before near the third human, older and wearier. The Snubbull beside the latter reeled back at her reappearance, catching the humans’ attention. She saw the trainer turn to her in shock, backing a couple of paces.

    Her ears heard, but could barely listen.

    The kids’ angry shouts at the trainer turned into gasps at their ghostly friend escaping the ball, and then into cheers. Ecstatic, relieved, all but unnoticed as the Mismagius’ focus remained on the older human. Aghast whispers, soon accompanied by their mon’s high-pitched growls.

    And then, the trainer reached for another of their cursed balls, and something snapped deep inside Cypress.

    The little ones returned to shouting, going as far as trying to tackle the older human and pry the ball out of their hands. The Mismagius couldn’t see, couldn’t notice any of that. There was no warmth left in her, no joy, none that could compare to the blinding lies she barely clawed herself away from. Nothing but the freezing coldness of regular existence, nobody but the monster of a human before her.

    It angered her, and with no love to counterbalance them, the flames of her fury consumed her.

    Cypress’s body thrashed as a fierce flare took over her eyes and searing rage over her mind. She only felt the emotions of the trainer turn fearful and the children—surprised. She glared at them, through them, her gaze’s intensity freezing the humans in place as her worst impulses soared, unopposed.

    They deserved to suffer.

    She lifted a tentacle, brought it to her neck—

    “CURSE UPON YOU.” ​

    —and slashed across it.

    The trainer shrieked as their hands reached for their neck. They needed to tear at it, their skin was too tight, they had to claw it open now now NOW NOW NOW—

    The kids backed off in terror at seeing this stranger forcibly hurting themselves. They turned to the Mismagius, pleading for help in panic, but she only stared, her crooked grin turning even wider. This worthless trainer bled, and Cypress’ burning anger roared in glee. Their pet watched in horror, growls turning to pitiful yelps.

    Terrified as they were, the Snubbull knew they had to do something.

    The Fairy-type leaped at her, snapping Cypress out of her immediate shock as her Curse continued. She saw the pitch-black energy gather around the other mon’s maw an instant before it would’ve clamped down on her, Shadow Sneaking away just in time. They were guilty; they were a part of this; they deserved to suffer too.

    Cypress’ eyes glowed with a red flare as tentacles slashed the air. Each of their slices tore through reality, unleashing erratic, purple Hexes that honed in on the Snubbull. With a well-practiced motion, the Fairy-type dodged sideways at the last moment, following up with another attempted Bite.

    Leaving themselves open for another Ghost-type barrage.

    The Mismagius floated backwards, leaving more Hexes in her wake, striking true with their target airborne. They should’ve been left reeling, barely alive—if even that. Instead, they only flinched for a second after landing, before attacking yet again.

    Cypress stared wide-eyed before retreating into another Shadow Sneak, the sight not making any sense. They were just a pre-evolved juvenile, and yet they kept on fighting after taking the brunt of her move, something she doubted even many of her fellow scouts would’ve managed. Didn’t matter.

    The rage-consumed Mismagius focused her strength in one spot this time, coalescing her power into a Shadow Ball. She launched it with a shriek, honing it on the constantly moving Snubbull. They stood their ground this time, a flare of a Protect surrounding their body as they headbutted the spectral projectile, deflecting it downwards, the resulting explosion sending a cloud of snowy mist into the air.

    And dashed again, not letting Cypress rest even for a moment. She had to stop them.

    With a backwards dodge, she came to a stop, focusing on the twitchy Fairy-type and letting them approach. The instant they’d dash in front of her, she’d lock them down with a Mean Look and dispatch with another Shadow Ball—

    Unfortunately for Cypress, her opponent had the bare minimum of combat experience and saw the most obvious bait in the world for what it was. The Snubbull’s ear-wrenching shriek only threw further kindling onto the flames of Cypress’ fury, shattering any strategic restraint she might’ve forced upon herself. Taunted, she immediately tried striking back, focusing for another Shadow Ball.

    And then, burning pain shot through her entire side, knocking her out of her hateful fever. She got a glimpse of the Snubbull with the piece of her in their maw before retreating again as sudden clarity hit her. The past few minutes felt like she’d been a prisoner in her own body, only able to watch as it spread its suffering and dispensed what it considered justice.

    To her relief, the trainer was still alive, constantly thrashing against their Curse as the two kids forcibly kept their blood-stained hands away from their throat. She’d done this; she’d scarred them for life, and there was nothing she could do to undo this. Her single whisper undid the human’s compulsion, making them cry out in pain.

    Another dodge had the Mismagius hovering away from the horror of her own creation, mind torn between loathing at what she’d just done and evading the Snubbull. Guilt could come later; now she had to get out of there.

    Her opponent wouldn’t let her. Each time she tried to Shadow Sneak, or even just dodge, they’d be waiting for her, pushing her back towards her sins with each attempted Bite. Even once she attacked them again, it amounted to nothing; the few Hexes that hit only barely slowed them down.

    Everyone, please help me!​

    Even if her fellow scouts heard her cry, it’d take time she didn’t have until they’d arrive. All the while, the gaping wound in her spectral flesh barraged her with pain, each dodge coming harder and harder. In desperation, she attempted another Shadow Ball from up close, hoping they wouldn’t manage to Protect themselves in time—

    And indeed, they didn’t.

    The shadowy projectile went right through where the Snubbull was, dispelling the Double Team illusion before careening towards the small band of humans. The kids froze in the middle of dragging the trainer away from the battle, paralyzed in fear as it approached too fast to react to. With her utmost effort, Cypress steered the bolt away from them at the last moment, the nearby bang making them shriek in fear.

    And left herself exposed.

    Another Bite left her barely standing, leaving glowing teeth marks in its wake. They struck again before she could even finish reeling. She only made it halfway through her Shadow Sneak before having to stop, the last of her strength waning fast. In desperation, she tried hovering into the trunk of a nearby tree right after a dodge, hoping her opponent would lose track of her.

    Instead, a Crunch ripped the tree in half just an inch below where she hid, a grazing Bite finishing her before she got over her own shock. She went from hiding to splayed out on the snow in a matter of seconds, barely clinging to her afterlife.

    A pitiful way to go, but hardly undeserved.

    Cypress could only watch the trained mon approach as she laid incapacitated, pain gripping her body in a vise. Whether they were about to tear her spectral throat out or merely let their human have another go at her with their demonic balls, she was as good as dead.

    She’d only barely resisted that hell the first time; she wouldn’t last an instant now.

    Cypress closed her eyes and waited as the Snubbull approached, their growls terrifying despite their whininess. For a split second, she tried concentrating on a Pain Split, just needing them to come just that bit closer—

    And only earned herself yet another Taunt, forcing the weakest of whines out of her, and nothing else. She couldn’t move as she watched the trainer slowly pick themselves back up in the distance; couldn’t act as they approached, pressing a scarf to their throat. The human kids weren’t far behind, gasping at seeing ‘their’ ghost in her current state, shouting something at the older human.

    Right as she was about to give up entirely, the trainer’s confused, aghast words echoing in her mind, the Mismagius felt a familiar aura approach fast. With a quiet wail, she reached out a tentacle, attempting to drag herself away as a distraction. The Fairy behind her growled louder, preparing for another strike to put her in her place.

    Only for a Bullet Punch to send them rocketing back towards their trainer.

    Before Cypress knew it, Lariat stood before her. His usual dispassionate focus had turned intense and ferocious, bangles raised as he predicted the Fairy-type’s next move. Despite taking a Steel-type move, the Snubbull barely looked worse for the wear, effortlessly pushing through the painful bruise on their side.

    The trainer gasped at the Fighting-type’s sudden appearance, shouting something at their mon. They reached for another ball attached to their belt, but by then, their Snubbull was already on the move, paw glowing as they prepared for a Brick Break—

    Lariat’s Iron Head knocked them out mid-swing.

    The Fairy’s pink body smashed into a small pile of snow, twitching as they desperately tried to keep fighting. A glowing red beam stopped them in their tracks before they disappeared, leaving just the two scouts, the two onlooker children, and a trainer paralyzed in pain and fear.

    “Cypress—” the Lucario shouted.

    “We need to get away, now...”

    As much as Lariat wanted to enact justice on the humans for daring to hurt his friend, he knew that avoiding further fighting was the correct choice, deep inside. Inching backwards, he picked Cypress’ damaged body up. She clung onto him with whatever strength she had left, peeking over his shoulder as they backed off.

    The trainer collapsed whether they stood, shaking as they reached out for another of those balls. It made Lariat stop and brace himself, fists raised at the potential threat. The human didn’t even notice, pressing a button on the device’s side. An instant later, a Servine stood before them, dazedly taking their surroundings in, growing more terrified by the moment.

    Cypress looked at the two human kids she was friendly with just moments ago, and saw the same lethal fear as one of them had earlier.

    And this time, to her horror, it was justified.

    The Mismagius barely paid any attention to where Lariat was taking her; barely capable of thinking about anything but her guilt. Even the pain of her body screaming at all the blows it took paled compared to the awareness of just what she had done in her burst of rage. Even if they were an actual trainer, the kind that wished only to contain them and use them for battling, she still almost murdered them with their own hands.

    If not for ‘their’ mon snapping her out of her fury, she would’ve succeeded, the thought making her nauseous.

    Was it even truly her doing it? That Snubbull striking her felt like it had forced her out of her furious thoughts, like everything before then was her psyche’s violent reaction to what the trainer’s ball had inflicted upon her. Was that the case? Was her mind just making it up to absolve her conscience of guilt? Did any of it even matter in the light of her almost having taken a life?

    If she had enough strength left in her to cry, she would’ve.

    A distant shuddering sensation made Cypress look up to see her coworker Teleport in and run over, aghast. Before the Gardevoir could even say anything, a bird cry coming from above marked the arrival of another scout; Lucere no less distraught at the scene than Aria was.

    “^Cypress, Lariat, what happened?^” the Gardevoir gasped, stepping closer to tend to the ghost’s injuries without waiting for a response.

    She wasn’t a healer, but even an unskilled Heal Pulse beat no Heal Pulse, making her focus on applying whichever healing she could as the Lucario spoke up, “After I heard their alarm, I ran over to Cypress’ position. They were being attacked by a trainer’s Snubbull, whom I then incapacitated. We then made our way out without further fighting.”

    “Trainer attack ya, Cypress?” Lucere asked, her chirped out question making the Mismagius flinch. The answer was simultaneously dead simple—yes, they have—and made messier by their mon’s actions being entirely reasonable considering what she then did.

    She wasn’t looking forward to explaining it one bit, but knew she had to. “There’s… pant more to it than that...”

    Aria appreciated the confirmation, but the unspoken implication left her even more worried than before. “^What do you mean, Cypress?^”

    “They—they hit me with one of their balls...”

    The frigid hilltop grew dead silent at the Mismagius’ revelation. All of her coworkers were wrestling with a mix of ‘I’m so sorry’, ‘how did you survive that’, and ‘what was it like’ in their minds, but it would be the Gardevoir that gave the voice to these questions first, “^Was it that ball that hurt you this badly?^”

    “Hardly... it doesn’t hurt the body, merely the mind...” the Mismagius whispered. Her explanation didn’t make a lick of sense, and she was well aware.

    “^What did you see?^”

    Aria didn’t want to rush her, giving her all the time she needed to process what she’d seen and describe it, if possible. The sounds, the sights, they escaped description, refusing to even let themselves be remembered. All Cypress could do was go over how it felt, itself a nigh impossible task because of the sheer magnitudes involved. “Heaven. Love so intense, I almost believed in it. Hell.”

    Neither Aria nor Lariat put words to their subsequent confusion. They didn’t need to, the brief glimpses they saw of the Mismagius’ recollection harrowing enough to answer for the ghost plenty. Lucere didn’t have access to that, though, leaving her tilting her head in bewilderment. “That doesn’t say much.”

    “Words fail to even come close to describing it…”

    The Gardevoir was unsure how to respond, torn between offering the ghost comfort and giving her time and space after having to recall something so overwhelming. Eventually, she settled on the latter; the choice appreciated by the Mismagius in question. After she’d gotten a grip on herself again, the Mismagius continued, “After I broke out, my mind felt broken. I felt an intense rage at the trainer, and couldn’t stop, or even control it. It was as if it took over me, and I attacked them...”

    As harrowing as the previous admission was, this one was even more dire for their village as a whole. Cypress wasn’t blind to that fact, clarifying soon after, “My Curse didn’t kill them, but it came close. Their Snubbull attacked to defend them, understandably so...”

    The elaboration provided relief, but only so much. The other scouts were still concerned about the ramifications of one of them having attacked a human, even if they were a ‘trainer’. For a moment, Aria wondered whether dashing in there and trying to erase that entire incident from their memories could’ve been an option, but discarded it soon after.

    She’d seen memory meddling cause enough pain already; there was no way to use it here without raising further alarm. “^The trainer is still alive, right?^”

    “They were when we left, yes,” Lariat confirmed.

    “I don’t think they lost enough blood to be at risk of death...”

    ‘Think’ was the load-bearing word of that sense, and everyone gathered was well aware.

    “Sounds like ya need another role then, Cy!” Lucere chirped. “If that one there got so infamous you got a trainer on ya tail, who knows if all this won’t happen again.”

    The thought about abandoning her current post hurt Cypress even harder than the Bite that tore a part of her body off. She didn’t disagree with the Altaria’s observation—she couldn’t go back there, not after subjecting these poor kids to all that. They wouldn’t ever think of her as anything but a bloodthirsty, terrifying beast ever again—and considering what had happened today, they were entirely justified in that.

    It didn’t make any of it hurt any less.

    “I concur... An ordinary sort of patrol route, or-or another location to haunt a-and draw attention to...”

    All three scouts could tell something was very wrong, be it by sensing the ghost’s emotions or by focusing on her wavering voice. With Lariat and Lucere alike playing their expectant focus on Aria, the Gardevoir sighed and asked again, more softly this time, “^Cypress, did something else happen?^”

    The Gardevoir offered the ghost a hand, eagerly accepted and held as firmly as the Mismagius could manage. This was almost entirely unlike the Cypress they knew, leaving the trio concerned for their coworker. The Lucario didn’t know how to express that emotion at all, and all the Altaria did was perch beside the ghost and try to pat her back with her wing, but it was appreciated all the same.

    A part of the ghost didn’t want to bring it up at all, not with her current company. And if she’d been any less worn down, that part might’ve even come out on top—but not this time. “I have crossed a line. I had grown closer and closer to these little humans that would visit me, but now can never go back. I’ll only ever be a monster to them now...”

    Lariat kept his eye roll under his eyelids while Aria held the ghost’s tentacle tighter. She might not have had any particular platitudes or advice for a situation like this, but the Gardevoir still hoped she’d be able to make all this at least slightly less terrible for her friend.

    Lucere, unfortunately, didn’t keep her response in her throat. “Sigh, as if that wasn’t already the case. They’d never think of us as people.”

    The audacity of these words snapped the Mismagius out of her loathing spiral in an instant; her red eyes narrowed on the Altaria. What followed might not have been a magical incantation, but was just as spirited. “No, it was not. They never thought of me as someone that would bring them harm. Scare them for fun, indeed, but never beyond that. Never, ever hurt them...”

    No matter how forceful Cypress was in her delivery, her point kept flying over its recipient’s blue head. A part of her wanted to snap at them for continuing their affection despite the terrible things they were saying, but couldn’t find the strength for it.

    The Altaria continued, “I’ve no idea why ya keep insistin’ that, Cy! That’s what all humans see us as, lesser things to be scorned or hated that are gonna hurt them, and nothin’ more!”

    Despite not feeling like she had the strength for anything but levitating anymore—and even that was only thanks to Aria’s help—the Mismagius felt a nigh-irresistible urge to Shadow Ball the bird.

    “You know nothing about what these kids thought of me. I have seen human little ones run to me for protection from their older peers, one I granted them each time. I have seen children so profoundly sad they felt mere meters away from the brink. I couldn’t talk with them about it, I couldn’t chant away that kind of sadness—but I could be there for them. Keep them company as they wept, as they screamed, as they processed their pain...”

    Cypress’s point of view didn’t let her see the reaction on Lucere’s face. She saw Aria’s, though, one of equal parts surprise, gratitude, and awe—and it was enough to keep her going.

    “At no point did they think of me as a ‘lesser thing to be scorned’. As someone different, yes, but they treated me with kindness, regardless. Even if they couldn’t understand me, even if I couldn’t understand them, I was still someone they could turn to beyond just a cheap scare. I was just as much a person to them as they were to me…”

    Even if the Mismagius kept her anger in check much better here than she did with the human, she knew full well it wasn’t any more productive. It was a deeply personal topic to her, and she hoped this pointed explanation was enough to get Lucere to respect her experiences, even if not necessarily agree—

    “Pleeease, even our kin can’t get over the smallest of differences! Why would humans be any better?”

    Cypress had enough. “What ‘our kin’, Lucere? Are you implying that our village is near as virulently hateful as how you are, or imagine all humans to be...?”

    At last, she’d hit where it hurt. The Altaria wasted no time flying around to look the ghost in the eye, her anger quickly matching Cypress’. “I’m not hateful! The frickin’ humans are! I’m just sayin’—”

    “Just saying what, that you’re more eager to paint all humans as equal monsters than to believe my own experiences with them? To project your own bigotry onto an entire kin!?”

    “How—how could you call me bigoted!? Don’t you know what I’ve been—”

    “I can because I do know. Not everyone is as cruel as your flock was, Lucere. Certainly not everyone of a kin. And...” A part of Cypress wanted to stop there and then, to convey her point without going directly for the jugular. She said ‘fuck it’ to that concern, though—Lucere has had it coming for a while. “And if you keep up your bigotry against untold myriads of people just because they look different to you, then you’re no better than your flock exiling you because of what’s between your bloody legs…”

    The staring contest that followed almost turned hot despite only lasting seconds.

    Cypress felt Lucere’s visceral rage and pain at being compared to her own oppressors, felt the subconscious thrashes of darker emotions that had almost persuaded her to pay her back for such an insult. Underneath those—sadness, grief, and guilt—constantly attempted to be covered up with anger. She had struck deep, and hoped it’d be enough to get through to someone who used to look up to her as a mentor.

    The Altaria’s knee-jerk fury wouldn’t last for long, not with the emotional injury it disguised being so painful. The other two scouts were too stunned to butt in beyond focusing on being able to put up a Protect should the situation grow even worse. Eventually, Lucere’s pain finally breached her eyes and flew down her cheeks, making her take off without a word.

    And then; there were three.

    With the Altaria gone, Cypress clung even tighter to Lariat, left drained after the spat. Next to her, Aria chewed through what to do now. Changing the Mismagius’ patrolling route was an obvious next step, but the specifics were the kind of thing they’d ideally consult the Elders about. Her previous spot was perfect, drawing a lot of attention from the surrounding humans—including those that would otherwise go deeper into the woods and possibly stumble upon their village.

    The Gardevoir had no idea if there was any other location nearby that would be as effective at pulling the humans’ attention towards itself as Cypress’ spot was—

    ...

    But there was someone who could know.

    The thought redirected her attention over to the Lucario beside her, the awkward situation from earlier leaving him standing idly, uncertain of what he was supposed to do now. Helping his coworker back to safety was the obvious next step, but it felt like the current discussion wasn’t over, either. Lariat focused on Aria at sensing her thinking about him, making her finally speak up.

    “^I’m wondering where else could Cypress go to keep on drawing attention once they recover.^”

    A telepathic whisper sent the Mismagius’ way let her know to remain quiet. Persuading Lucere to a less bigoted position went... about as well as it could realistically have, but Aria had higher hopes for the Lucario. Whether they’d be justified, it remained to be seen.

    Fingers crossed.

    After a solid minute of agonizing silence, Lariat finally picked up the conversation, just so that someone would. “What were you considering, Aria?”

    “^Not a whole lot myself, sadly. I don’t know what the nearby humans consider landmarks, and figure that Cypress focusing her efforts on one of them would work out the best for us. Though... there is someone who does know that, much more so than I do.^”

    The most obvious rhetorical trap has been laid, now to see whether it would end up catching—

    “The human in our village?”

    That was easy.

    “^Indeed! Anne is a local. She surely knows of a better place for Cypress to haunt.^”

    To Aria’s consternation, she couldn’t see a single iota of reaction leave Lariat’s ironclad head at that observation. It was understood perfectly well, and yet it somehow did not bring any thought to him. As if he just... sincerely didn’t care one bit about that. Cypress might not have been able to pick up on his emotions with as much clarity as the Gardevoir, but a lack of spoken response let her figure that too.

    And, as opposed to Aria, she had a better idea about where to steer the discussion instead. “I can’t believe she just spat at my words...”

    The underlying emotions were as genuine as they got, helping in catching the Lucario’s attention as the ghost continued, “I meant all I said in my recollection. These kids really thought of me as a person, as one of them, even...”

    Aria and Lariat alike paid close focus, curious to see where the ghost would take that insight.

    “We had no way of talking, no way of understanding. And yet, they all knew I wasn’t all that different. Certainly scary, but not evil...”

    Cypress feared that the last point wouldn’t remain true for long, but this wasn’t the time to fret about it.

    “If our dear Anne is any indication, these kids knew enough about my kin to ought to be terrified. But they weren’t. They thought of me as one of them, even without communication, even if we couldn’t do much together...”

    As the Mismagius thought on, she lost the battle against her own tears, clenching her eyes soon after.

    “It makes me imagine what could’ve been. If we spoke a shared language, if we understood each other as equals. If they could talk with me about what ails them, if I could be more than a spectral head to lean on. Infeasible now with my specific situation, yes, but...”

    She didn’t have to finish the sentence to sense Lucario’s thoughts having gone where she wanted them to. This topic elicited much more thought than the previous one—in that it elicited any thought at all—bringing quiet reassurance to Cypress and Aria alike. Whether it would end up amounting to anything, they would see in a few hours.

    Until then, though, one ghost in particular needed medical attention post haste.

    “^Cypress, take it easy today,^” Aria reassured. “^Don’t worry about your scouting; we’ll pick up the slack until you get better. There’s a lil’ deathborn ghost at the clinic. She might appreciate you showing her some ropes once you get there~.^”

    With the main reason behind the Mismagius being eager for her scouting gone, Aria’s reassurances fell flat. She wasn’t worrying about her duty, but instead about the dozens upon dozens of human kids that might end up traumatized by proxy at hearing what she’d done.

    The remark about the ghost at the clinic, however, caught her attention right back. It wouldn’t be the same, she knew that well, but she sure as hell wouldn’t oppose helping a lil’ kid feel better. “Curious... Well, dear Aria, you have caught my interest...”

    “^In which case, let’s not waste any more time here~.^”

    Lariat didn’t have to be implied at twice, making sure Cypress was holding onto him well before taking off into another Extreme Speed. In a blink, Aria was left alone once more. All that remained was to turn back around towards her patrol route, head out,

    And keep hoping that the nervous thoughts she kept having about Marco were just her overactive anxiety.


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    • Interlude VI: Opportunity

    • Interlude VI: Opportunity​


    CONTENT WARNING    : Mentions of Suicide

    “Now stopping at: ROSEBURN CRESCENT.”
    Click to expand...

    The ailing headphones’ tinny tune left the announcer’s call only barely audible. Their music was one of her few remaining comforts left—the very last, if her plan ended up not working out. Emma shook at the thought, but didn’t let it take over her mind. She would need all the clarity and focus for what she was about to do she could get her hands on.

    Her gesture to stash the earbuds back into her jacket pocket caught the attention of her companion, making them hop off their seat and onto the floor of the bus. It netted them a profoundly exhausted chuckle. Which, in turn, drew their attention back over to their human.

    “Not yet Spots, not yet.”

    With their overeager response diffused, the Snubbull hopped back onto the seat, turning to look at their human in concern. She hasn’t been doing well for... a while now. Her mood only got worse each time the Fairy-type had lost on the battlefield. Affirmations weren’t far behind when that happened, neither were reassurances that Spots wasn’t the problem—or Noodles, for that matter. Not... inherently so, at least.

    Without any distractions, Emma’s thoughts inevitably steered back to money. So dumb, so anxiety-inducing, so necessary.

    So sorely lacking.

    She’d done and re-done the math again and again, only ever arriving at the same result each time. Between the monthly League stipends, the pittance she got her parents to send her when she reminded them she was—in fact—still underage, and the expenses of food, Pokecenter visits, having somewhere to sleep at, and other supplies, she needed to be winning around three battles a month for the League-issued prize money to keep her afloat.

    The last time her team had won was almost half a year ago.

    Week by week, her upbeat attitude about it all wavered. With each loss, her battle record turned from a streak of bad luck to a scathing indictment of her as a trainer. Reserved strategies, hyper-offense, even playing as defensive as possible while trying to abuse Noodles’ Leech Seed.

    Nothing worked, nothing kept working. Each time, her optimism only lasted until the first barrage of blows was exchanged, until the loathed truth shoved itself into her face yet again—Spots and Noodles just weren’t strong enough.

    Emma had tried the same training regimen as everyone else, but just couldn’t keep going. It hurt her friends so, so much, leaving them almost fainted every time. She refused to settle on that being the only way forward. There was no way that everyone who’d climbed further had only managed to do so through misery. She remained resolute that her team could keep moving on and keep growing stronger without it, without subjecting them to that kind of hell.

    And then; they didn’t.

    That’s not what any of this should’ve been about.

    Sure, rigorous training was a part of their journey, but it wasn’t supposed to be the only one! The dreams of it being all about friendship and bonds were childish oversimplification—she knew that well—but a part of her kept hoping they weren’t all bunk. That, deep inside, there really was a kernel of truth to them all, and that a no-name upstart like her could make it did if she just kept trying.

    Because the alternative... there wasn’t one.

    “Now stopping at: SATOSHI STREET.”
    Click to expand...

    whi-whine?

    Spots’ audible concern snapped her human out of her anxious thoughts, making her hold the Snubbull closer. None of this was her fault, none of this should’ve been her fault. Neither she nor Noodles deserved to be forced to suffer just to keep their human afloat. Emma had promised herself that she’d rather take her own life than stain those of her companions with constant, agonizing training.

    She wasn’t dim enough as to not plan for this exact outcome, though. The mere presence of the sturdy, winter-proof tent inside her large camping backpack was a cruel joke she herself and the world alike had played on her. Snap-purchased in an anxious mental breakdown a few months ago, constantly laughed about for weeks afterwards.

    Looming ever taller over her as losses piled up.

    If the push came to shove, Emma was confident that she’d be able to endure for a good while out in the wilderness. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but Noodles should’ve had some way of coaxing wintering berry bushes into producing more fruit. If that failed too, petty theft. Going back wasn’t an option, leaving only ‘through’,

    Or ‘out’.

    She hated even considering becoming a statistic, but couldn’t deny having grown... distressingly comfortable thinking about it. Her friends would be alright with or without her. They’d grown stronger than most wild mons by now, enough so where she couldn’t even imagine them ever getting into legitimate danger. Her fate wasn’t their responsibility.

    And, if survival at every cost was really what she was after, she could just lie through her teeth once she inevitably circled back to her family’s doorstep. She could say that he’d failed his journey, kowtow before his parents, and beg for forgiveness. Then, once they got their fill of expressing their anger—verbally or not—they’d magnanimously let him stay at their house while he rushed through catchup classes for failed trainers, together with hundreds of others.

    And many, many years later, if she just kept grinding, kept lying through her teeth, one day she’d finally carve out a safe space for herself in this world. She sure wouldn’t ever have one at ‘home’. Not with people that already barely tolerated her before her journey—only agreed to because it’d get him out of the house—and the... personal revelations she had over its course.

    ...

    Murder on her mind, again.

    It was a theoretical that was as intoxicating to fantasize about as it was harrowing to consider the implications of. Not for herself—she didn’t fancy a life sentence, making a murder-suicide an obvious choice—but for her friends. If they were found to have had a part in it, they’d be hunted to the ends of the earth and put down. If not...

    Emma doubted their prospects would be much better, anyway.

    “Now stopping at: WHITE PLAZA.”
    Click to expand...

    yank-yank!

    She’d stopped petting Spots again, hasn’t she?

    The trainer chuckled to herself as her friend tugged on her hand, before lifting the Snubbull into her arms. Spots was right. Thinking about this wasn’t doing her any good—especially with her current plan.

    She might’ve only come to this backwater town to look for inexperienced trainers to battle with, but the piece of local folklore she’d overheard yesterday might’ve very well been her ticket out of this pit. There was a Mismagius haunting the woods behind the local school. Been at it for a while, from what these two annoying punks told her before giving her the finger. Not a species she usually associated with battling, but that hardly mattered.

    If they could get another win, if they could gather some momentum, then it’d all get so much easier.

    She would’ve been able to splurge on something better than the barely edible kind of mon chow; she would’ve been able to get Noodles properly looked at. He got hit bad in a fight a few months ago, and there’s been something wrong with his leg ever since. Pokecenter did its thing and wouldn’t take a second look at him afterwards, leaving only a private consultation, which... ha.

    She couldn’t even afford hormones anymore.

    Even the Ultra Ball in her backpack’s pocket was acquired through... less than legal means at the local Trainer’s Mart. Their fault for having such shoddy security, as far as Emma was concerned. Normally, she wouldn’t have tried something so ballsy. The last time she’d been in anything resembling ‘normal’ circumstances, though, was over half a year ago.

    The awkwardness of capturing a piece of local folklore didn’t go by unacknowledged—in that she acknowledged it, and went on with her life. Yes, it sucked for this town; it was really rude to just stroll in and catch their ghost like that, but that was her only remaining idea. Besides, since apparently nobody had seen that ghost battle, it had to be so good at it that nothing dared challenge it anymore. Must’ve been bored to hell in there.

    It’d probably be thankful to her in the long run for giving it some actual battling challenge. If her lessons at the trainer school were anything to go by, battling was the one thing almost all mons desired deep down, and what they all did in the wild. Really, she’d just be doing it a favor. Spots was thankful to her right after she’d caught her, after all.

    ...

    Emma wasn’t dim enough to buy that explanation wholesale.

    The more time she’d spent beside Spots and Noodles on their own, outside of the context of battling or training... the less she believed in that all-present ‘battling nature’. It had to have been true at least somewhat; there’s no way the League just made something so basic up whole cloth and kept peddling it straight-faced.

    They were scumbags that drew kids in with a promise of a heroic journey only to subject them and their mons to misery, but there was no way they’d keep bullshitting about something this obvious. Someone would’ve called them out on it sooner or later.

    Right?

    woof-woof!

    “Yeah, you’re right, Spots. Our stop’s coming up.”

    growl-woof?

    “Fine, fine, you can stay in my arms for a bit longer~.”

    The Snubbull huddled in while her trainer picked herself up, her oversized backpack following in tow. Just like with her mulling earlier, there was no point in pondering this topic too deeply—there lied madness and quackery. No matter what insight she’d arrive at, it didn’t change the fact that this was her last opportunity to turn things around. Her last opportunity to ensure her safety in a world that hated her—

    “Now stopping at: ALDER AVARETTI PUBLIC SCHOOL.”
    Click to expand...

    —and she was not going to waste it.


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    • Chapter 26: Traitor

    • Chapter 26: Traitor​


    Marco’s heart hammered in his chest as he jogged through the snowy woods.

    On any other day, he would’ve considered his current pace to be sluggish—to put it kindly—but at the moment, it felt like he was rushing headfirst into something someone would regret. Whether it would be him, his sister, the human girl with whom they had grown closer than either of them would admit to, or their entire village, he didn’t know.

    And it agonized him.

    It’d be many more days until he fully recovered from everything that had happened with Cinder. And likely even more until all warmth would stop carrying with itself the all too familiar aching. It was the time he wanted to take for himself, time he knew he should be taking for himself, time Aria had stressed he deserved, but... the obvious loomed above him, above them all.

    The task he’d decided on last evening ended up being an abject failure by any metric. Worse than that—he didn’t just make no progress; he made negative progress. Because now, he too doubted his sister’s actions.

    Marco trusted Aria; he trusted her more than anyone else in the world, and yet... distrust lingered. He felt the blatant uncertainty in her voice and aura when she’d relayed to them she’d wiped the memories of that human—the telltale sting of a badly kept lie—but deliberately overlooked it until now.

    But now, with the light having been shone upon it in such a stark way, he couldn’t look away.

    He couldn’t think of a motive that wasn’t malice, and didn’t have it in him to imagine his sister as a traitor, but... why would she lie about this? If he’d felt it right, if it was so blatant that even a non-psychic had noticed it, then the only question remaining was ‘why?’.

    He had no answer. As far as he was concerned, there was only one way to sort this harrowing enigma out—checking up on that human in person.

    It was far from his first time sneaking into the human backwater, though he hadn’t ventured further than the end of their path in years. What was once an expression of frivolous curiosity had turned so much more dire the more he learned about humanity, so much riskier.

    He didn’t need to do this; he doubted he even should be here. Even if his sister had kept that human’s memories and lied to them about it, he couldn’t accept that it was for any truly malicious reasons. Aria had to have had a plan for this; she was much too intelligent to knowingly expose their village to so much risk without gaining something from it.

    But what if she had misjudged? What if she had acted in the best of intentions and ended up bringing on their home’s eventual demise?

    ...

    What if he had misjudged, too?

    The movement in the Gallade’s peripheral vision made him jerk into a combat-ready stance before easing out. Just a white sheet, much like the ones he saw Anne draw on. It fluttered in the freezing wind, attached to the sign at the end of their path. On it, a depiction of the girl’s face, and an incomprehensible soup of blacks and whites, of meaningless symbols humanity comprehended all the same.

    It might’ve only been a day, he might’ve only spent a few hours in Anne’s company, but... he already felt close to her, closer than he probably should have. It was hard not to feel for her. The girl had bonded with Cadence further in a day than almost all the other children around in the six years she’d been alive, and that bond was mutual.

    For crying out loud, he experienced so much more of their mutual memories than he’d ever wished to—enough to still see occasional flashes of them as he daydreamed or fell asleep. He didn’t know the names of the two humans branded into his mind, knew nothing about them beyond them being Anne’s biological parents and that Aria had apparently had a hand in the death of one of them. And yet, he hated them more than almost anyone else in the world.

    He wished only the best for the girl; his heart yearned for her wellbeing to a degree he would’ve found embarrassing if he’d given it closer thought. But what if her and their village’s safety were truly incompatible? Or the much more harrowing possibility—

    What if investigating this would doom Anne?

    Marco didn’t know—he couldn’t know. All he had any certainty about was that his sister lying about something this important had hurt him, and that he wanted to know why. Whether to help her or to stop her, he had to know.

    Too late to turn back now.

    The snowy shrubs and deciduous trees bordering the black stone path provided just enough cover for him to scout out of. He was unsure how Aria had managed to get through this place unnoticed, and if it was by actively keeping herself from being spotted, then he’d have to come up with something else.

    His relative inexperience in psychic arts compared to her might’ve only bugged him in the abstract most of the time, but here it was a very practical problem. One he’d either have to push through, however feebly, or sidestep. And the latter... just might work.

    He remembered enough of their standoff against the human and her posse to tell her aura apart in a crowd, and if he just got further into the town, he’d pick her up, eventually. What would happen afterwards was an unknown that refused to be shoved into the back of his head, but which could just barely be delayed until it became relevant.

    The main street was too busy, which left sneaking around the perimeter. From his exploration many years earlier, he knew that this place was shaped by the road at its center. Almost all the buildings stood next to it, with so few side paths he could count them on his fingers. Just had to stalk the town’s edge, and something would come up, eventually. Hopefully. Not the most encouraging outlook, but a far better one than sprinting through it and sending this entire place into a panic.

    The opposite side of the black path held the bulk of the buildings, making it the obvious starting point. Right as he was about to focus on a Teleport, Marco spotted something large and blackened not too far, so unlike the gray, snow-covered blob of human—oh.

    Aria had described that Anne’s home had burned down, but seeing it for himself was something else altogether. Less of a pile of charred wood, and more of a scorched carcass of what was once a home, what was once a family, and which ultimately fell to its own cruelty. It made him feel so, so very cold.

    In a split second, he was crouched on the other side of the road, catching his breath. Even Cadence could’ve likely managed this one without too much difficulty, and yet here he was, gasping for air.

    He was doing his best to keep down the self-conscious feelings. Aria’s words were still recent, but this time, he didn’t have the reassurance of doing a good thing. He might’ve very well been in the middle of something that would turn his family against him, something that would turn him into a traitor of Anne’s safety. No way to know but to keep going, no luxury of being able to choose until he was on the same page with his sister.

    The building he first passed by was by far the largest in their entire town. On its own, it could’ve easily housed all of their village, but its intended usage was... uncertain. Inside it, many, many children of various ages, with several older humans sprinkled among them. If it was a school, then was a rather space-inefficient one.

    Before the Anne affair, he would’ve added some jab at humanity being wasteful as a whole at the end there, but couldn’t force that out of himself anymore. It was hard to do that after interacting with the girl, after gaining an awareness—much of it through literally unforgettable memories—that humans were just like them. In all their good, in all their evil.

    In all their lost, confused selves.

    For a while, he thought that one of the little humans had spotted him through the large, clear windows. He could sense shock, but didn’t have the time to investigate further, or to even make sure if that shock was caused by him. No endurance for the slow deliberation. He had to get this over with before he’d grow even sloppier. The massive courtyard, delimited by a fence woven from metal wire, was more of a challenge.

    Or at least would’ve been, if there was anyone present there. He had no idea why was nobody using such a vast space for anything, even just meditation, but wasn’t about to look the blessing in the—

    rr-ring-ri-RING-RING!​

    A panicked Teleport at the sudden, shrieking ringing wasn’t the best idea in hindsight, but at least it got him out of there. For the next few buildings, he just had to be mindful of the windows with almost all humans being inside, slowly crouch along, and occasionally climb onto the roof.

    All that was augmented by much the same tricks his sister had used, just on a far smaller scale. Much easier to deceive one human as opposed to a baker’s dozen. Even if it was slow, and required a lot of climbing and acrobatics, this combined approach was getting him further and further into—there she is.

    Three auras, just like the ones he’d remembered. One of them was muffled too, as if asleep, only helping him further. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone—two... no, three? Three others with them, likely human. No... the third aura felt so weak; maybe he was just miscounting, and it was really two?

    Didn’t matter, he just had to find a safe spot to blink to.

    The cold, snow-covered roof froze his body as he leaned in and focused all he could muster out; the tendrils of his aura scoped out the inside wall by wall. One large room with way more internal walls than was reasonable, but which formed a natural cranny that—to the best of his ability to tell—nobody was looking at. Now all he needed was a distraction, accomplished by flipping over a pair of freestanding metal cylinders filled with trash on the opposite site on the street, aaand—

    Oh goodness, this place was warm.

    The unexpected sensation almost robbed Marco of his entire focus before he scanned his surroundings. A cranny indeed, with nobody in a direct line of sight. To his right, a wall composed of hundreds upon hundreds of colorful rectangles of varying sizes, difficult enough to make any sense of that he didn’t even try. On its other side, the five... six... five souls in here, three of which were chatting in human.

    “~W-what just happened? Wait, did these just fall over?~” the human with what felt like another soul inside them asked.

    “~Sure seems so. Must be the wind,~” the one Marco was after answered.

    “~Woooo, what if it’s that ghost everyone is talking about!?~” the third squealed.

    “~Liam, please don’t joke about that, it’s—it’s not even a real ghost. It’s... goodness, I still have no idea what any of it could mean. Are you really sure it has nothing to do with the Anne situation, Mrs. Graham?~”

    “~I don’t see why it would, Julie. Sure, there are fairy tales of ‘Ghost Brides’ kidnapping children, but no actual evidence of that having ever taken place, to my knowledge.~”

    Wait a minute...

    Marco had to keep himself from jumping in there and then at hearing the very human he was looking after mention a Gardevoir. Once he took a moment to parse through what was being said, both this worry and confusion only grew. He had to know more as soon as possible.

    Blocking four awake minds from perceiving him wasn’t easy, but with their attention not being aimed anywhere near him, it was just about manageable. With that done, a peek around the colorful wall clarified the scene. The human he was after—‘Olive’, if his memory served—and two others, all of them sitting at a table. One grown up, one obviously a child. The child was looking at pictures on that white ‘paper’ stuff; how they got there exactly was not something Marco had the time to think about. Beside him, the Ribombee, sitting on his shoulder and enjoying the pictures along with him. Quaint, even if it explained little.

    “~Well, I can imagine there b-being few reported cases, of course the League would want th-that stuff covered up. Otherwise it’d have to do something and be more proactive with their interventions...~”

    “~I really don’t think that’s the case, Julie. I get it, it’s scary, but we should avoid jumping to conclusions.~”

    “~Then what else should I do? What if that Ghost Bride had hurt someone? What if it really was the one that set fire to Martins’ house—~”

    “~Julie, that was a gas leak,~” the older human reassured.

    “~But what if it had caused that gas leak!?~”

    “~With that logic, you could blame every single event that happens on them. Bad weather; must be the wild mons. Rotted crops; must be the wild mons. My child is disabled; must be the wild mons. At that point, you’re no better than the first-century peasants I remember you snickering about in class.~”

    The snarky, ribbing response interrupted the other adult human enough to get her to think for a moment. Mrs. Graham was right, but she wished it helped with her and so many others’ anxiety as much as it ought to have.

    As the concerning discussion took place around him, Marco reached into Olive’s memories to get a direct confirmation of his sister’s actions—and Aria, along with Lumi and him, were still there, starker than anything else in the last few years.

    A cold dread shot through him and Olive simultaneously at that find. Her sensation of being watched was almost nothing compared to his heart dropping, but it sure didn’t help any. Aria had really done it; she had lied to him; she had lied to them all. All the Elders would immediately brand her as a traitor if they ever found out, the thought deeply terrifying.

    As was the adjacent thought of him being a traitor to Anne’s cause if his presence here would blow Aria’s plan for keeping Anne safe wide open. Hell, even without that, even if he just went back and reported this to everyone else come voting time, they would all turn on not just Aria, but the girl as well. He wished his fellow scouts were better than conflating Anne’s safety with Aria’s potential mistakes, but he didn’t trust them all to be. If he did that, he’d be just as much of a traitor, but to Anne instead—

    “~I FOUND IT!~” the human boy cried, startling everyone in the building—Marco included.

    Peeking around the wall again, the Gallade watched the little human carry a large picture over to his mom, showing it off to her with beaming joy. All the while, Olive grew concerned, and not-Olive... almost fainted there and then.

    “~Breathe Julie, breathe. It’s okay, it’s—~”

    “~That’s the one I saw, mom! The big white and green! I saw it here, oooo lemme read it! ‘Ga-ra-da-vora’!~”

    “~Wh-what do you mean you saw it here, Liam...~” not-Olive muttered.

    “~Behind the bookshelves there! It was there, mom, I told you, but you didn’t believe me! Do you believe me now?~”

    The boy’s mother did believe him, but not for any reasons he or Olive would’ve wanted. Attention being brought towards Marco’s hiding spot had him backing off, ducking behind the not-wall.

    “~M-Mrs. Graham, a-are you sure that the Ghost Bride d-didn’t make its way in here that day...~”

    “~Of course not, Julie. There was nothing to suggest it got here in the end.~”

    “~B-but the footage got corrupted, a-and—~”

    “~Happens all the time,~” the older human explained, “~these cameras are old, cheap garbage. Besides, I doubt a wild mon could manipulate technology to that level—it got caught on camera after all.~”

    The application of logic to the stressful situation was only barely more effective than it sounded. It kept the not-Olive from freaking out immediately, but she still teetered on the edge of a mental breakdown.

    “~But I saw it here, mom!~” the boy reminded.

    “~Are you really sure, Liam? I don’t see why it would end up here, of all places. I think all the mania might’ve gotten to you, too~.~”

    “~Nooooo! Mrs. Graham, I saw it, believe me, I’m not lying!~”

    “~I’m not saying you’re lying, sweetie. All the buzz around something stressful can get to us all, even if we try our best to avoid it. And between the entire Mylock losing their marbles about this, and the news of that scary Gardevoir in Hoenn or whatever, it’s not impossible for our brains to get confused, you know.~”

    “~But I didn’t! I saw ittttt, Mrs. Graham!~”

    “~L-Liam, please...~” not-Olive pleaded. Even if she wasn’t about to collapse anymore, her state still wasn’t the best.

    Olive was very aware, leaning in over towards her and putting on the most motherly voice she could manage, “~Julie, sweetie, I think you should lie down right now. Past few days have really been a lot for us all, and you especially. Just rest your head and cool off, no need to keep panicking about this.~”

    In her unstable anxiety, the other human nodded her head along with Olive’s recommendation. Shaking, she slowly got up, giving Marco a better view of the massive, bulging stomach. The sight took Marco aback, but he didn’t have the time to focus on it much longer—she was probably gonna lay her egg soon, is all. Worthy of congratulations, but he wouldn’t be the one giving them to her.

    “~L-Liam, please c-clean up—~”

    “~Don’t worry Julie, I’ll take care of it,~” Olive reassured.

    “~B-but, Mrs.—~”

    “~I mean it, Julie. Get yourself home and rest. I can sort around a few books on my own, no problem.~”

    “~Moooommm, can I take out—~”

    “~Not today Liam, I’m sorry,~” the librarian gently asserted. “~Your mom is feeling terrible right now, and should get back home soon. How about this—I’ll let you take out twice as many books out on Monday instead, how’s that sound?~”

    “~Awwwhhhh... okay...~”

    It took a couple minutes for the not-Olive to get herself together and head out, Olive helping along as much as she could. The little human wanted to keep on talking afterwards, but they got the clue it wasn’t the best time for that. Quite a rarity for them, if the adults’ unspoken reactions were any sign.

    With a few parting words and double checking if the not-Olive could make it back home on her own, they left; the door chiming quietly as it opened and much louder as it closed. It left just Olive and her two mons, one of them slowly waking up. Now that the situation had calmed down, it was the perfect time to come up with an escape plan. Blinking back up onto the roof and retracing his steps sounded like the best course of action, though he’d also need to put in effort towards masking his footprints in—

    woof-woof-arf-BARK-BARK!

    In Marco’s focus, he didn’t pay attention to the Arcanine in the other room waking up from their nap—but they most definitely noticed him. With a couple of tentative sniffs and a shocked realization, the Fire-type sprang into action and turned the corner, barking out loud at smelling someone very familiar around before switching to low growls.

    “~Leo, what’s going on?~” Olive asked, startled. She and the Ribombee followed the Arcanine right after, looking around the bookshelf only to see nothing. For a moment, Marco thought about teleporting away anyway and hoping that all this would just get overlooked, but... he couldn’t; of course he couldn’t. Not with her knowing so much, not with him knowing so little.

    He needed answers, and she better had them.

    In a split second, a Gallade materialized where once there were only bookshelves. The sight startled everyone present, Olive especially, shock immediately giving way to terror. Luxie fared better, more curious than anything else, and the Leosimilarly calmed down a bit. An intruder, sure, but one he’d already seen before and which didn’t hurt his human in the end.

    Marco’s attention, however, rested entirely on the human, and vice versa.

    “~Guess I should’ve expected your people coming over to finish the job...~” Olive muttered, furrowing her brows.

    The words took Marco aback—he couldn’t disagree with the thrust, but needed to know more about the specifics. “^What do you mean by ‘your people’?^”

    “~Aria told me she was supposed to remove all memories of us having met, but she didn’t. Seems I can’t run away from my mind getting violated in the end, can I.~”

    The phrasing took Marco aback as he paid closer attention to everything going on in Olive’s mind. Fear, indignity, outrage, acceptance. All of them just about expected, and he’d have to respond sooner or later. He had no idea just how he should respond, earlier doubts returning in force. This was madness, but he trusted Aria to have a reason for any madness, this included.

    But first, he needed to know more. “^I... I need to know what happened. With Aria, with... everything that you and these other humans were talking about. I didn’t come here to wipe your memories, I came here to figure out what my sister had done.^”

    His admission was as honest as it got, but it wasn’t enough for it to be perceived as such. The thread of suspicion was still there in Olive’s thoughts, and it was hardly unearned. Before the human would speak up, Marco felt the Ribombee’s desire to speak, linking the entire group together right before she said, “Ooohh, you’re her brother! Uh—please don’t take our memories away! We just want to help Anne. We promise!”

    Good gods, did Marco want to believe that as wholeheartedly as the little fairy did. He was too preoccupied by all the mess in his mind to notice the happy, barely held in gasp Olive let out at hearing the Ribombee’s voice again. He continued, “^I-I can gather, I-I just... what’s going on? Aria lied to us about what had happened, and I’m unsure how to react to all this. I want to help Anne out too.^”

    The Gallade’s uncertainties were brought to light and scoured under a microscope. Going against someone who was clearly on Anne’s side hurt; the worries that he might turn Olive against their village through his actions hurt. The human’s fear hurt—that perception of him as an executioner against whom she could only beg for mercy.

    He couldn’t even claim it to be incorrect, either.

    Olive shuddered, “~I... I suppose I can see it. Alright... what do you want to know, ...?~”

    “^Marco. And... everything, really. You mentioned a Gardevoir earlier while talking with that other human, and it sounded like you were referring to Aria but trying to hide it.^”

    “~Ah, right. Well... the gist is that Aria was spotted while I guided her through Mylock, on my way here.~”

    Marco’s eyes went wide, his breathing sped up. That was bad, that was very bad—but if anyone had really seen her then, they would’ve reacted, right? Humans were afraid of them as the one that just left showed; his sister would’ve sensed that if it had really happened! “^How come the person who spotted her didn’t react? She—she would’ve noticed that!^”

    “Not a person, a camera! Oh oh and I’m Luxie!”

    The Ribombee’s clarification explained precious nothing, and Olive could tell. Sighing in relief, she thought about how to explain that to the Gallade as she glanced towards the front door. Still marked as open, had to fix that.

    “~Think of a ‘camera’ as a... mechanical eye,~” she began. “~It sees things, and everything it sees can then be seen by others later if they want. Whatever magic your sister had used to remain unseen, it doesn’t work on cameras, and she got spotted when passing in front of the grocery store. Not very clearly—it’s only for half a second and the image quality is so bad there’s a lot of plausible deniability, but she’s there all the same. And that... sigh, got people panicking.~”

    “^Wait—what do you mean it didn’t work with that ‘camera’?^”

    “~Well, you’re the one with psychic abilities between us two, you would probably know much more about it than I. Though... if I had to guess, whatever trick Aria employed only works to confuse people, and not mindless, soulless machinery.~”

    Marco’s shock only grew at Olive’s explanation, the contraption she’d just described terrifying in its implications. If it was just some metal with those unthinkable properties and not a person, it meant there was no way for them to detect it, no way to fool it. Destroy it, most likely, but not work around it unnoticed. “^Is-is that object only in—^”

    The librarian shot his hopes down, “~Hardly.~”

    “They’re everywhere! Look look, we even have one in the corner up there!”

    Luxie’s call redirected Marco’s attention to the middle of the opposing wall, up where it met the ceiling. Indeed, he could spot something in there, angular and shiny. Way, way too small to notice normally.

    “~This one was a headache for me. I went over the footage when the panic started, and sure enough Aria was there, plainly visible, even when I couldn’t see her at all. Goodness, your psychic tricks are scary to think about sometimes. I went and tinkered with the recordings, breaking them so that they couldn’t be seen, and blamed it on the camera being damaged. Didn’t help with everyone losing their marbles one bit, lemme tell you that much.~”

    Before the existential horror of a contraption not even the size of his hand countering psychic-based stealth could hit Marco in full, the implication in Olive’s words caught his attention right back.

    “^You lied to them about this, then.^”

    “~Yes, of course I did!~” Olive yelled. “~Even with Aria’s... e-even with her threat, awful as it was, I still want to keep Anne safe; I almost went behind bars because of what Aria had done!~”

    “^W-what?^”

    The anger in Olive’s voice wasn’t unearned either, but what it conveyed was... confusing. With a couple of deeper breaths, Olive closed the front door and rolled the window blinds back down, granting them privacy as she continued, “~You can come out of that corner now. And yes. I got interrogated yesterday. Cops took me in and asked me questions about what had happened with Anne’s house. I didn’t mention Aria at all, framed it as myself looking for Anne in her disappearance, or any clues about her whereabouts when her father attacked me. Of course, without Aria in the picture, it just looks like I walked into her house with a Fire-type by my side, there was a bang, and then the whole place went up in flames.~”

    “Not that it didn’t deserve that...” Leo commented, his gravely voice taking Olive aback with a quiet chuckle.

    “^Wh-what happened then?^”

    “~I argued my case. I said I went in to have a look around, and then got attacked by Anne’s father. Both are true. I brought up that the building only caught fire a good while afterwards, and since it was a gas fire, if Leo really lit it up, it would’ve been visible right away. I doubt that’ll be the end of it all, sadly, but I know how to argue that all I did was trespassing at worst, and that Tom tried shooting at me, but had his bullet ricochet to hit him back, giving me time to escape. They won’t have anything except a bit of circumstantial evidence.~”

    Even as Olive went through everything in her mind and that she wasn’t too likely to be deemed guilty of setting fire to Anne’s house, uncertainty remained. “~And... if Aria did what she was meant to do, if I didn’t remember how it all went, then... I don’t know what might’ve happened. To me, to you all, once the authorities figured out my memories had been meddled with. I...~”

    Soon enough, though, an emotion Marco wasn’t expecting joined her uncertainty—anger.

    “~I helped her all I could, gave her everything that would help Anne even slightly; I’m putting my freedom on the line for her, lying left and right to cover for her, and this is how I’m repaid? By being doubted enough for someone to come over and either wipe me again or threaten me into submission!?~” she shouted, incensed.

    “^I—I apologize, I really do, but this is a life-or-death situation for us all! If the rest of the humans learn of us, we’ll be doomed!^”

    “~But I knew nothing of the rest of you. All I’ve seen of ‘you all’ was you, Aria, and that Luxray. I had no idea where you came from, how to track you, or what your motives even are! All I knew—hell, all I know even right now—was that Anne is with you, and that I wanted to help you out because of that reason alone. And for you to claim secrecy as the reason, while I could find your hiding place in two minutes on the map anyway, is—~”

    “^WHAT!?^” Marco shouted, the telepathic sound startling everyone. He was only barely keeping himself from intervening in Olive’s memories there and then. “^What do you mean!? How did you find us!?^”

    The force and barely veiled fear behind the questions intimidated and shocked Olive in equal measure. She knew she had to answer, but it was something she didn’t expect to have to explain. Her previous interactions with Aria and Lumi painted a picture of mons who had stumbled out of the stone age, sure, but at least one of them had to have picked up on humans having flying vehicles, right?

    They had to know they were visible from above, right?

    Each moment of silence only made the psychic’s panic grow, and Olive could tell. In desperation, she made the ‘hold on’ gesture as she gathered her thoughts. “~What I mean is that it’s possible to tell where your hidden... village is with information humans already have. We take pictures of the land from way above, and you can see a few unmarked buildings in the middle of the woods on those pictures if you know where to look. They’re not too suspicious by themselves, but with you three running into us near there, it becomes obvious.~”

    The elaboration did little more than amplify the shock in his mind. Was—was everything the scouts were doing for naught? Had humans already won and were now just waiting to deal the finishing blow? Have their days been counted since long before Anne ran away from her house?

    “^I-I... that’s...^”

    “~You really didn’t know, did you?~” Olive whispered, stunned. The clarification didn’t justify how she’d been treated; but at least it made it make sense. She figured if these wild mons were unaware of the power of aerial photography, they would fixate on anyone who knew of or saw them personally. A very limited perspective, but an understandable one.

    It didn’t make Olive forgive everything there and then, but... it helped shift her gears from anger to a desire to help them out further. No matter how Aria and Marco had treated her, as long as they were treating Anne better than humanity ever would—a trivial task—they had her support. After all, even the Gardevoir had stressed how invaluable her knowledge had been for the wildlings, and this was just more of that.

    And with everything she’d heard about League’s efforts to ‘disperse’ overly large ‘groups’ of wild mons in the past, she could only feel bad for them, really. “~I can show you how it looks like, if you want.~”

    Marco could barely force the words out, his sheer terror nigh-paralyzing. The very worst-case scenario had already come to pass many, many years ago, and they didn’t even know. “^I... y-yes, please.^”

    “~Come over to the desk. I’ll get some tea going in the meantime.~”

    The Gallade did as instructed, walking over to the smaller table in the library’s corner, housing several pieces of difficult to describe human machinery. Yellowish, rectangular... block, on top of which sat a much larger, much bulkier, much more angular object. It was opaque from all sides but the one facing the chair behind the desk, glowing from just that direction.

    “^Wh-what is this, anyway.^”

    “Computer!” the Ribombee innocently explained. “Olive does all kinds of stuff on it, mostly checks books in and out!”

    “~Oh that’s just a fraction of what computers can do, Luxie. But yes, this one’s a pile of junk that only barely works; I use it for the library. Here, let me show you what I saw.~”

    Olive pulled another flat, rectangular object over to their impromptu group. The many bumps on its surface turned out to all be buttons one could press—and which she was pressing tons of, without even looking at them. As she did, the glow on the upper contraption changed. It remained mostly white with many smaller symbols for a while, but eventually turned almost entirely green.

    “~This is the map. Think of it... think of it as seeing the terrain from a bird’s-eye view, looking straight down. This long strip is all Mylock, this black line is the road, and all the greens are the woods. Following so far?~”

    The answer, to Marco’s annoyance, was ‘barely’. Even a concept as simple as ‘terrain as seen from straight above’ was difficult to grasp, especially with anxiety’s bind over his mind as firm as it was. After a few more tries, he just nodded along—they didn’t have the time to be doing an in-depth lesson about this.

    Olive was unconvinced, but went along anyway. “~Now, let me zoom in so you can see more detail. This is the entrance to the path between Mylock and Lillywood, the one Anne took before she crashed. And now, let me move the view over along it and a fair bit off to the side, and you might spot it...~”

    The spatial transformations involved went so far above the Gallade’s head they threatened to crash into an overhead satellite. If nothing else, though, he could still play the game of ‘one of these pieces of green is not like the others’. One of the easier ones he’d ever played; concluded with him reaching to uncertainly point at a scattering of several brown and gray spots, as well as smaller, colorful ones. “^Is this what you mean?^”

    “~Indeed! Let me zoom in, it’ll get a bit blurry but hopefully you’ll pick up on it—~”

    “^That—that’s it, I-I see it now. Holly’s pantry, our tree, I think I-I can even make out the clinic. I-I—is it really just visible to every human like this?^”

    “~That’s what I meant earlier, yes,~” Olive sighed.

    “^D-does anyone else know!?^”

    “~Well, I don’t know for sure, but from my attempts to find out, it seems not. I’ve only found any discussion about it on a single website from several years ago. They didn’t know what it was, but guessed it was either some sort of ongoing construction effort, or a black site for training army mons. Nobody mentioned the possibility of it being a village of wild mons, no.~”

    “^But that won’t remain the case forever...^” Marco whispered.

    “~Quite likely, yes. Especially now that there’s more attention on this area because of what had happened to Anne. All it takes is one popular person looking at the map of these backwoods, pointing this weird spot out, and suddenly you’ll have many, many people knocking on your door.~”

    The exact thing they all tried to avoid happening with their scouting efforts. Everything Geiger had drilled in them about information spreading through humanity like a wildfire; all of it to prevent this exact scenario from happening. And yet, it could just… happen no matter what they did. Just like in person, all it took was a single human spotting it, and they’d be doomed.

    But with these ‘maps’, they were entirely defenseless. At least, that’s how Olive made it sound.

    “^Is-is there anything we can do about it? There has to be something we can do to make sure nobody sees it, r-right!?^”

    “~I don’t know, Marco. I’ll try to see if there are any options, but I doubt it. It’s all done automatically at this point; there’s only minimum human oversight. Besides, erasing just that little spot will draw more attention to it than if it just remains as it is.~”

    The revelation of ‘cameras’ had put a dampener on his spirits, but this... almost broke Marco entirely. How was he to respond to this? If there was nothing Olive could do, if there was nothing they could do but pray that they wouldn’t be noticed either... what now!? They were at the mercy of fate, the very thing they had their procedures to avoid—they were doomed!

    Humanity had won without even being consciously aware of their existence. They would know eventually, but didn’t yet.

    ...

    Aside from Olive.

    As the librarian went to a side room to finish making tea, Marco’s mind threatened to tear itself in half. He was afraid; he was fucking terrified, and at that moment, there was a large part of him fueled entirely by that emotion. All it wanted to do was finish the task that Aria couldn’t, to wipe the memories of the only human that could rat them out whenever she so desired. Hell, nothing stopped her from using that knowledge as a bargaining chip, demanding gods-know-what from them in exchange for dooming them—

    Nothing but basic decency and having a soul, of course.

    Which was what kept him from going forward with this kneejerk of an idea as well. Fear screamed for him to act, to ensure that bit more safety, but that pesky brain kept reminding him how wiping Olive’s memories wouldn’t just be abhorrent—it’d be unhelpful. If not for her input, they would have remained entirely unaware of the sheer extent of humanity’s knowledge of their every move, of being in their sights, of many of their psychic tricks amounting to nothing.

    These wouldn’t stop being true just because he didn’t want to think about them. He could either run away from all this, or face just how enormous the implications were. The latter, of course, implied action. What action; he had no idea beyond it being massive in scope and likely to splinter their village. That’s what the Elders’ guidance ought to have been for, and yet...

    The screeches of primal fear and careful consideration fought a savage battle in Gallade’s mind, only interrupted by the soft thud of a teacup being placed in front of him. Different aroma from what he remembered, much fruitier—but not at all bad. “^Th-thank you, Olive.^”

    “~Bitte schön, Marco. I suspect nobody else in your... village knows about this either?~”

    “^N-no, not to my knowledge. I feel like anyone would’ve spoken up if they knew. This—this could end us at any point...^”

    “~The uncertainty of life, indeed. If nothing else, now you know how little you know. If this was this much of a shock, I can imagine your knowledge of humanity overall, even when combined, is... low,~” Olive summed up.

    It wasn’t meant as an insult, and Marco was well-aware, but it still stung a bit. “^Y-yeah. I can’t disagree with that. Even those of us who used to live with humans or be trainer mons only know so much.^”

    “~Hah... I’m guessing that Anne breaks several m—people’s minds every day just be existing?~”

    “^Not quite, she’s—she’s really not too different from us. That’s the biggest thing I realized after watching over her for a while.^”

    “~I can say the same after my run-in with Aria and... Lumi, was it?~”

    “^Yes, Lumi.^”

    “~Being a bitter, short-sighted grump truly transcends species.~”

    Marco had to use his entire willpower to not spit half a cup’s worth of tea at hearing that said so casually. He couldn’t disagree with that in the slightest, but he sure didn’t expect Olive to be so... direct about it.

    “~How has Anne been doing, by the way?~” she asked.

    A swerve towards a pleasant topic melted through much of the apprehension gripping Marco’s mind. It was hard not to smile after thinking back to the previous day, and its affection between the small bundle of children. The knowledge of just how fleeing that happiness was, and that it was gone now that Aria had hopefully come clean about the upcoming vote to Anne, undid much of the comfort an instant later. Still, the Gallade tried not to let that get to him as he answered, “^Really well! My niece and nephew—Aria’s children—have really taken a liking to her. And now that Ember is with her again, she’s been feeling even—^”

    “~Ember!?~” / “EMBER!?” / “...Ember?”

    The trio native to the town shouted in unison at hearing the Braixen’s name, the implications immediately exploding within their minds.

    Luxie screamed, “OH MY GOODNESS IS EMBER ALRIGHT DID ANNE FIND HER HOW DID SHE GET—”

    “^Yes, yes, Ember is doing well! She—she ended up in our village a year ago, and has lived there since. A-and once she’d heard that Anne ended up there as well, they became inseparable.^”

    As much as the aftermath of Cinder’s involvement still stung his skin and pride alike, Marco felt it was best not brought up here.

    “YAY YAY EEEEEEEEE I’M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT! I WAS AFRAID WE’D NEVER HEAR FROM EMBER AGAIN AND NOW SHE’S SAFE AND SHE’S WITH ANNE AND THINGS ARE GONNA BE ALRIGHT, EEEEEEEEEE!”

    “~That’s... good heavens, I’m so glad. They deserved to find each other again, oh my goodness...~”

    “Good for her and Anne.”

    The group’s overjoyed reactions only made Marco feel even warmer. With so much fear surging through his and Aria’s minds alike lately, he really appreciated having pleasant feelings to bask in.

    “~Goodness, guess it’s time to retire that plushie I gave her,~” Olive chuckled, breathless.

    “^P-plushie?^”

    “~Oh. After—after she parted ways with Ember, I wanted to get her something to help with her sadness. I knew I could only do so much to help, but figured that even if a lil’ Fennekin doll wouldn’t be anywhere close to a replacement, it’d still bring her some comfort. Heh... I still remember roughing and dirtying it up a bit, cutting off the tag and all, before dropping it to the side of the path Anne took back home. She must’ve taken it with herself as well, didn’t see it at her house.~”

    The parts of the story Marco understood were sweet as all get out, though there was one detail that didn’t sit with him well. “^Why did you ‘drop’ it like that?^”

    The librarian looked up at him from her drink, her wrinkled face sighing at the unpleasant question. “~Well... I knew she wouldn’t take a direct gift well. Hell, she felt self-conscious even over the cheap tea I gave her every time she visited. I hope that she’ll slowly get over that now that she won’t live with living pieces of shit...~”

    Marco concurred with a nod as he finished sipping on his cup. Of course, there was one detail that hadn’t been mentioned yet, one he was deeply unsure how to even bring up. After everything he had seen from her so far, he had a hard time imagining Olive doing anything that might bring Anne harm, but... what if Anne had suddenly left the picture?

    What if they ended up voting for exile, got rid of Anne, and Olive caught wind of that? She’d have no reason to play nice with them anymore, and all the motivation to destroy their village. He’d been wrong earlier, the reality of the situation now clear to him. Olive wouldn’t use that information for any personal benefit, no, but as blackmail to force them to keep Anne no matter what the vote settled on? That he could easily imagine.

    Speaking of, the sun was setting outside. It was time to go.

    “^Thank you for talking with me, Olive. I-I should be going now.^”

    “~Well, I’m glad I could help, Marco. As-as long as you won’t try backstabbing me now,~” she chuckled.

    Her words were said in jest, but there was an undercurrent of genuine fear to them, one Marco couldn’t dispute. Even now, after all this, fear and consideration in his mind fought on, leaving him woefully unsure what to do. Should he let anyone but Aria know about this? And if so, how much?

    Knowledge of just how unprotected their village was; having someone that could guide them through the vastness of the now-known unknown of humanity’s technological sophistication; awareness of their ability to see through their disguises.

    The revelation of Aria having gone against her orders; of her being a traitor to the village; of this human wielding leverage over them.

    Was the former worth the latter in how it would impact Anne’s chances once the vote came?

    His sister made her choice that day, but he couldn’t; its consequences were too vast for him to comprehend. Whichever doubts she had had, she’d overpowered them, and yet he was left thrashing against fear, both his own and of how other scouts might react.

    At a rational level, he knew that none of the newfound knowledge about humanity should convince anyone to vote against the girl, but... he could still hear that dark, fearful voice inside him. The terrified one, the one that would ideally forget everything it had learned today, the one that didn’t want to permit any risk, no matter how large an accompanying reward. He couldn’t dismiss that voice either, especially in how it pertained to the librarian herself.

    What if others reacted with mindless fear? What if they were left wanting nothing more than to get rid of anything human around, toss out Anne, wipe Olive’s mind, just to not have to think about just how deep of a shit they were in? Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d truly conquered that fear in himself. It was there; it tugged on his worst impulses; it begged for him to stand up now and do what was needed—

    “~M-M-Marco?~”

    ...

    Ultimately, however, Marco knew there was only one right course of action here.

    And all he could do was hope he would be forgiven for taking it.​


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

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    • Interlude VII: Gifts

    • Interlude VII: Gifts​


    “Alright everyone, now pair up and practice your Protects!”

    c’mere Grace

    hey where’d he go

    The Serperior’s instruction had the band of kids shuffle around the snowy clearing. Most of them immediately dashed to their best friends—or at least the peers they perceived as such. Cadence tried to spot one of the few faces she usually did these exercises with. Ember wasn’t around, hardly a surprise; neither were Blossom nor Zephyr, much more unusual; Elric... had just paired up with someone else.

    is she just gonna stand there like that

    can she not find anyone?

    In just a few moments, the task of finding a sparring partner had turned from searching for her favorites, to trying to spot the other unpaired person—or shuffling over to their teacher should she not find any. Not this time, thankfully. The fairy got spared that embarrassment, eagerly waving towards the similarly confused Gloom, taking them out of idly looking around the scene.

    ...suppose I can do it with her

    The ambient thoughts surrounding her felt so much starker than usual. It was unpleasant, and Cadence could only speculate about why they were so noticeable today. Could it be nerves from yesterday? Both about meeting Anne and then from chatting with her about their insecurities? Could it be her cruddy sleep tonight—or not just hers, judging by her mom having woken up so early it stirred her out of her sleep too? Could be the brief flashes of something morbid she saw in her dreams before waking—

    ...is she gonna do anything or just stare at the snow

    Right.

    With a deep breath, Cadence looked up at her classmate before firmly nodding to signal her readiness. She had to focus. The fairy’s eyes lit up dimly as the air shimmered around her horns. Singular Razor Leaves were hardly dangerous, but they would still hurt if she slipped up.

    This was easy; she could do this; bring it on!

    why does she always look so weird when doing this

    wonder if she’s digging into someone’s thoughts

    None of these phased her anymore; she was stronger than this. Mom had told her many times she would hear unwanted thoughts like that as her senses keened over the years, and that a part of growing up as a psychic was learning to filter them out. She was strong; she didn’t need everyone to like her; others’ uninformed opinions were their problem and not hers.

    ...hope she notices this one, haha

    None of these should’ve been phasing her anymore, at least

    With a whip-like motion, Mint sent just a couple of bright green leaves flying, slower than they’d ever be in any actual exchange of blows. Cadence didn’t need that handicap, forming the shimmering barrier a good few seconds before the projectiles connected and shattered. And then a second time, a few moments later. And again, and again, the move so ingrained she barely had to think to use it anymore.

    she looks cool like this

    man this is boring

    ...I wanna do attacks

    Cadence didn’t know the exact reason for Mrs. Cinder having been absent these past couple of days, beyond it having something to do with Ember and Anne. She didn’t want to speculate—that would’ve been rude—settling on just being glad that her other teacher was taking her break. There was nothing pleasant about practicing attacks, and even though mom had told her many times that defense was toothless without offense, the tidbit had a hard time really sticking in her mind.

    Anticipating opposing moves—as quarter-hearted as they were—was one thing, but having to let loose with something that could hurt someone else if they neither Protected nor dodged? She just wanted people to like her, and attacking anyone just went against that, even if it was just for practice.

    ...geez when is my turn

    It took her a good couple of years to get over that mental barrier.

    With a light startle, she waved towards the Gloom to signal for him to stop, before pointing at herself. Sluggish nod, slightly straightened gesture, and more waiting. For her to get her bearings, for her to finally do her part of the exercise and attack. The unpleasant whispers made the necessary focus harder, but not infeasible. Another thing to get some practice in at the same time—not just ignoring the others’ thoughts, but also her own.

    I swear she’s just daydreaming over there

    How did mom manage that; she had no idea.

    ...come onnnnnn

    Cadence’s eyes filled up with a multicolored light before unleashing the piddly Psybeam; the move so inaccurate the Gloom had to shuffle a couple of steps towards it or else it would’ve missed entirely. He didn’t comment on it, only moving a bit as needed as Cadence fired a beam after another.

    ...oh come on can’t you hit me

    Not audibly.

    …I swear she’s barely putting any effort

    wonder if that’s why she has to practice with the same two people

    The many little mantras mom had given her were losing their effectiveness fast as every overheard comment eroded her grip on her composure. She knew she should’ve focused on tuning them out the moment they started bothering her, but couldn’t, not today. Why was it so hard for people to just not think nasty things like that!?

    Cadence’s anger made her try to hit the Gloom much harder, but hampered her accuracy even further. After the third attempted attack in a row that resulted only in some fluffed up snow, the Kirlia had to force herself to stop lest her frustration only grew further. Deep breaths, withdraw all senses, imagine a small, floating leaf. Inhale, exhale—

    where’d I drop my scarf off...

    As hard as she tried to focus on calming down, overhearing someone’s concerns unfortunately caught her attention. She could step in here, she could do something nice and be helpful and get people to like her, right? She had to at least try.

    Without even looking back in the Gloom’s direction, she swept the clearing with her gaze, squinting at something small and red poking out from the whiteness in the middle distance. There it was, half-buried under a snow mound, tricky to spot. Just had to levitate it over into her hands, run up, aaaand—“Here!”

    Startled by suddenly hearing her voice, confusion in their mind as they turned to her. Wide eyes of first surprise, then relief, then veiled disgust as they tried not to show it on the rest of their face. “Thanks...”

    did she read my thoughts? weirdo...

    It shouldn’t have hit her anywhere near as hard as it did.

    Cadence watched them scoot off to another end of the clearing as she desperately tried to hold her tears in. She just wanted to help them out; why were they so mean to her all of a sudden!? Yes, they didn’t say they were looking for their scarf out loud, but they were still looking for it, right? Why was this such a problem—

    sheesh, that human mess is hitting Cadence too, no idea why did that birdbrain ever try defending that thing...

    The Kirlia had to use all that remained of her composure to not shout at Hawthorne for that thought. A stifled growl had to suffice, followed by her turning to head away from the class. This wasn’t good; she was getting so angry for no reason; she didn’t want to feel this way; she had to get out of here...

    where is she going?

    is she alright?

    haha she’s just skipping class in the open!

    ...oh come on what is it now

    why is she crying?

    oh dear

    what a crybaby

    Each thought about her made her run faster, the little body soon breaking out into the swiftest sprint it could manage—only to get cut off by the Serperior watching over their group. The briefest glimpse of a stern expression didn’t help her panic any, despite it immediately turning into concern after seeing her rough state. “Cadence? Cadence, issss everything alright?”

    The Kirlia definitely wasn’t alright, the only question was just how bad her headspace had gotten. Random bouts of crying at their practice weren’t too rare after all—though most of the time, they were caused by failing a Protect and getting hit head on, catching a stray projectile, or occasionally from general sadness at the state of the world after a particularly touching lecture. This was neither of these as far as he could tell, which was even more concerning. “Talk to me ssssweetie, it’sssss okay. Did sssomething happen?”

    Nothing did, nothing tangible to anyone but herself. She was as sure of hearing it all as everyone else was skeptical, and going into detail wasn’t ever a good idea. Besides, what could anyone do about it? Tell the kids to not think bad things? It was a stupid idea that wouldn’t have ever led anywhere good. Thoughts were supposed to be a private space, somewhere where anything went, and—

    “Cadence?”

    Hearing her teacher’s voice from much close up snapped her to awareness, bringing her face to face with one particularly concerned Serperior. Tears kept flowing, no matter how much she’d tried to keep them under control, and words were just so hard to cobble together right now, be they verbal or telepathic. She still wanted to run, she didn’t want to explain herself, she—

    “Hey Cadeeeeence, where ya runnin’—” Elric giggled from a nearby tree, all the laughter in his voice evaporating the moment he’d spotted the tears on his best friend’s face. Even he knew this was no time for jokes—the fairy needed something else. And as much as he really didn’t want to leave the comfortably dry tree he was clinging onto, this took priority.

    After letting out an audible wince once he’d landed on the snow, the Gligar scuttled towards the Kirlia and wrapped his arms tight around her. “Feelin’ rough, Cadence?”

    “^Y-y-yeah...^”

    “About yourself, or...?”

    “^Myself...^”

    “But you’re great and cool!”

    “^I-I wish—^”

    “Ya wish came true then, dummy!” the Gligar chuckled. “You are cool, and so’s all the stuff you can do! Ya even mentioned Anne thought so, too!” His teases were much more effective at breaking through her apprehension than anything that came before, replacing many of the tears with an embarrassed blush as he continued, “And ya know it, too! Anyone who thinks otherwise is dumb.”

    “I’d advisssse not to use that sssssort of language, Elric...”

    “Sorry, Mr. Oliver!”

    “...but it issss broadly true, indeed. We are all much richer for having you in our livessss, Cadence,” the Serperior smiled.

    The combined reassurance finally punched through the murk roiling in the Kirlia’s mind, leaving her clinging to her denmate as she got her breathing under control again. Inhale, exhale, inhale. Mom was right, dad was right, grandma was right, uncle was right, Elric was right,

    Anne was right.

    She was great like she was, and the more she let that fact get to her, the better. Easier said than done, much easier, and something she was already consciously aware of beforehand, but sometimes it was hard to remember when her thoughts were at their most unpleasant. Sometimes she needed a reminder—a reminder that everyone was more than glad to give. “^Th-thank you...^”

    “There ya go! Feelin’ better, Cadence?” the Gligar asked.

    “^A-a bit...^”

    “Seeemsss taking today’ssss practice off would sssstill be for the besssst. All I asssk is you remain ssssafe and look after yourssself, then~.”

    Cadence’s eyes went wide at her being allowed to leave early, making her redirect her affection over to her teacher. The Serperior wasn’t expecting it, flinching once the thin arms wrapped themselves around him, but ultimately didn’t mind, returning the favor with his vines shortly after.

    “^Thank you, M-Mr. Oliver...^”

    “Of courssse! No point practicing in a misssserable ssstate.”

    With the hug wrapped up, and waves exchanged between herself and Elric, Cadence took her leave. It took many more deep breaths and much more skipping through the snow, but by the time she’d arrived at her destination, she’d shaken much of her funk off. Just in time—Anne seemed to be really happy about something; she would’ve hated to ruin the good mood with her sadness—

    Wait, was that Mr. Lariat and Mr. Cypress in the distance?


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 27: Mending

    • Chapter 27: Mending​


    Sage wasn’t sure what Anne meant by ‘long hair’, but with how busy the rest of the room had suddenly gotten, she was down to find out.

    It was filled with people she didn’t recognize. The Braixen looking over the little ones—the Shinx, the Ralts, and the Riolu—was nice and very warm, which Sage couldn’t guarantee about the latter three. The Stunky beside the door was also nice to her, but looked more drowsy than anything, and the Grumpig... was there, too, off in the corner. Neither she nor Anne knew who that was, and the limited background knowledge about that entire species they both had made it clear that they didn’t necessarily want to know.

    Anne was old enough to recognize that thought as rather bigoted, especially in her current situation, but going against it could wait. Once the Phantump had hovered her way, she said, “~So, my idea was that I-I could wrap the shirt’s torso around the top of your head, a-and have it hang back behind it! Kinda like long hair!~”

    As enthusiastic as Anne’s delivery was, her words did little to clear up the mental image in the other girl’s head. No better way to demonstrate it than to just do what she had in mind and let Sage see the results for herself.

    “~I can have long hair?~” Sage asked, confused.

    Her words took Anne aback a bit, but the older girl clarified right after, “~Well, I hope so! Oh, I mean like a wig, not like actual hair if that’s—~”

    “~Aaaahhhh!~”

    Wigs were cool, though Sage never thought she’d be wearing one made from a shirt. Having a concrete idea of just what was happening made her pay much more attention to her older peer’s actions, especially as she started cutting the shirt in half. It wasn’t going well, not with her limited leverage and strength, but nothing they couldn’t accomplish together. The Phantump asked, giddy, “~Can I help, can I help?~”

    As self-conscious as Anne would’ve been at that question coming from anyone else, having it be said by an excited child as opposed to a slightly condescending adult made all the difference in the world. “~S-sure! Can you hold that other end and then pull on it?~”

    With the Phantump’s help, Anne’s little craftswoman project went from ‘just about impossible’ to only ‘difficult’. A bruised thigh pinned one end of the shirt to the mattress, Sage pulled on the other one, and her one good hand slowly cut through it just below where the sleeves joined the rest of the fabric. It wasn’t easy—not with a knife so dull its only remaining use as a weapon was as a bludgeon—but it was going.

    The fabric kindly tearing apart the rest of the way through once they were around halfway done helped, too.

    Wrapping the cylinder of the world’s most scuffed wig around the top of the Phantump’s head wasn’t hard, but that couldn’t be said for letting her see the results of her labor. It took a few minutes and much more exhaustion than Anne expected for her to fish out the tiny, scratched pocket mirror out of the depths of her bag. Once she did, though, Sage could finally see her little gift—and... have mixed opinions on it. “~Ooooooo! I like it, it’s so long! It looks kinda wrong, though.~”

    The mishmash of euphoria and complaints took Anne aback as Sage tried to see herself from every angle, but she couldn’t hold it against the ghostie and how young she was. At the same time, it brought back memories of when she was that age, making her much more self-conscious about how she must’ve behaved under her grandma’s watch. She’d never been shouted at by her or anything, but there were quite a few disappointed looks and words, especially when she and Ember started running around the place. Again.

    “~Wrong in what way, Sage?~” Anne asked. “~Too long, or—~”

    “~Smooth!~”

    The one-word answer had the human slowly look over at her own hair to see if she had forgotten about something obvious. Smooth, right, hair was smooth—ohhhhh. Not all hair, Sage’s must’ve been much curlier. That explained some of it, but clarified little about what specific kind of hairdo she was supposed to portray with her limited resources.

    ...

    She could try sketching it, though. “~Ahh... could you help me draw what kinda hair you’d like, then?~”

    After a couple of nods so eager they tossed the black fabric cylinder over from her head onto one of her horns, the younger girl floated over and started drawing before Anne even got everything ready. Wouldn’t need any colors with her immediately beelining for the black pencil, at least.

    The sketching process took a fair bit of back and forth to arrive at anything. For how eager Sage was to show off what she meant, her visual clarity was... not there, at least at the start. The explanations that accompanied it didn’t help, either. “~The long... uhh, l-long and curvy! Oh, and there and there too, down to shoulders!~”

    With her sketch soon turning into a largely incoherent black blob, Anne was left trying to mimic her individual strokes as opposed to just looking at the end result. Multiple stripes coming from the top of the misshapen circle, in every direction. If she meant streaks, they wouldn’t be possible unless she cut up plenty more shirts for materials—something she only felt comfortable doing up to a point... Hang on.

    As the Phantump sketched in excitement, her friend got to filling the page beside hers, taking a stab in the dark about what Sage might’ve meant. Hair was never her strong suit, and she hadn’t ever woven actual braids, but it was as good an idea as she had in the moment.

    “~Yes, like these!~” Sage squeed. “~I just drew them for you, Anne!~”

    “~I know, I know, I just wanted to make sure, hehe.~”

    The tiny bit of childish indignation was amusing more than anything else, with the confirmation that accompanied it helping a lot more. Actual braids weren’t happening, but having a wig that sort of resembled them... maybe. They’d have to be simplified a lot to get down to something they could feasibly assemble with their limited skills and even scarcer supplies.

    A handful of thin, black stripes hanging from what was essentially a cap was so scuffed it made Anne cringe to imagine, but it was also her best option at the moment. “~I think I know how to do that. Can you hold this for me again?~”

    Cutting the fabric wasn’t any easier the second time around, not with even less strength on Anne’s end. What she was doing was more than worth it and she knew, but she could still really use some help—

    “^Are you two doing alright~?^”

    Anne thanked the stars that the unfamiliar voice had waited until she’d put the knife down before jutting in.

    To little surprise, the telepathic words seemed to have come from the Grumpig, leaning on the bedding with their arms resting on top of it. Their eyes jumped back and forth between the two in a rhythm Anne could tell was there, but couldn’t follow. As she gathered her words, Sage responded first, emboldened by her progress in communicating her idea to Anne, “~Yeah! We’re making a wig!~”

    It was a perfectly accurate explanation that was simultaneously almost as unhelpful as it was possible for it to get. “^A wig, huh?^” the Grumpig asked. “^For...?^”

    The Psychic looked up at Anne, trying to recall the name she was sure she’d overheard at some point. As she did, she snapped her fingers to the same rhythm as earlier; the quiet sounds unusually distracting. Enough so for the source of the Grumpig’s confusion to space out listening to them, before realizing it was her that the question was about.

    “~Anne, I-I’m Anne. And no, it’s not for me, it’s for—for Sage here.~”

    Not what the stranger expected to hear, but it made sense. “^Ahh~! A neat decoration of sorts? Or something to help with the cold, orrrr...?^”

    “~Um, neither, it’s...~” Anne trailed off. Even if she knew of the right terminology to describe any of this, it would’ve helped little. She had to explain it the hard way, and hoped she wouldn’t get any crucial parts of it terribly wrong. “~Kind of decoration? It’s—it’s something for her to look more girly.~”

    Sage hadn’t thought of that framing before, either. It was accurate; she couldn’t deny that, but it still made her just a bit uncomfortable to think about consciously, her posture slouching as she hovered closer to her friend.

    The Grumpig asked, “^More girly? Curious, curious, never heard of there being differences like that in Phantump!^”

    “~B-but I’m not...~” Sage tried to correct the stranger, words petering out after just a few words, quietened by the deep-seated discomfort brought by thinking about how she looked as opposed to how she should look.

    Anne didn’t know of that underlying reason, immediately holding the younger girl closer as the Grumpig leaned in, her expression softening a lot. “^Hey, hey there sweetie,^” she smiled. “^Everything’s alright Sage, you’ve not done a thing, love. My name’s Pearl.^”

    The Psychic’s outstretched paw wasn’t taken; the lil’ ghost too preoccupied by all the murk rolling around in her mind. Pearl didn’t mind, thankfully, withdrawing it after a few moments without letting her smile falter even slightly. “^Well, if you wanna go into more detail, that’d be a lotta help, but even if not, all’s well loves. Could I help anyhow? Ember’s doing a great job looking after everyone as is.^”

    Anne didn’t want to overstep her boundaries, but more help was always appreciated when it came to something as messy as this. Granted, she wouldn’t be getting started any time soon anyway, with her one good hand wrapped around the Phantump, giving her some more time to explain it all.

    No way through but to give it her best shot, and hope that Sage wouldn’t mind. “~It’s alright Sage, it’s alright. A-as to more detail, um... okay. So, everyone used to think of Sage as a boy back when... when she was human, but now we know she’s not, and I wanna help her look more like a girl—~”

    “^Ahhhhh, yeah I getcha! Oh, I sure know all about that struggle, used to deal with it too.^”

    Sage was too spaced out to notice Pearl’s offhand remark, but Anne most definitely wasn’t. “~W-wait, really?~”

    “^Yup! Ages ago, though I’m guessin’ much of what I had gone through wasn’t nowhere near as bad as it must be for her, poor thing. Didn’t have turning into something else altogether on my plate, I knew what was goin’ on, and others gave me my space. Well, now I gotta help her even more, bah! Alright, what’d you need help with for that wig of hers? You looked like ya was straining a fair bit with that knife.^”

    “~Yeah, it’s—it’s hard like this—~”

    “^Don’t say another word Anne, just tell me what ta do!^”

    Anne wasn’t expecting help this enthusiastic, but between the younger girl needing her support, and her creeping tiredness, she could only reply one way, “~Th-thank you, Mrs. Pearl.~”

    “^Anytime! Making kiddos happy’s why I’m here, anyway.^”

    The assembly that followed was no less scuffed than the girls’ typical methods, but it was incomparably faster. Anne doubted she would’ve been able to beat the speed at which Pearl’s telekinesis was tearing stripes off what remained of the shirt even with both functional arms and a razor-sharp knife. With much of what once was her shirt torn into short strips, gluing the resulting mess together became the main bottleneck.

    If she had a needle and some thread, or a little more time, she might’ve been able to make do without glue, but... that was a luxury she had no guarantee she’d ever get again.

    Frigid thoughts about what awaited her stopped Anne in her tracks each time they crept up on her, and each time her attempts to distract herself away from them by refocusing on her current project became less and less effective. She had no idea what would happen or even how much time she had, and despite Aria’s promise that things would be alright no matter what, the human was still terrified.

    She hadn’t encountered anyone who felt like they really hated her, aside from that one mean-looking Lucario. Maybe they were the exception; maybe everyone else was the exception, and the rest of this place only kept themselves from jumping in here and tearing her throat out because she would be voted out soon, anyway. If not for wrestling with old, barely functional glue occupying a fair chunk of her headspace, she might’ve ended up panicking there and then once more.

    With Ember’s presence, wanting to be there for Sage, and Aria’s promise, she didn’t, not yet. She hoped she’d at least be able to maintain her composure until the lil’ ghost left the room. Sage was the one to be sorry about, not her.

    Thankfully, the ongoing efforts eventually snagged the hauntling’s attention, pulling her mind out of the dark, unpleasant pit it had fallen into. Every glued-on strip of fabric brought the makeshift headgear closer to what they both had in mind, closer to a hairdo as opposed to the result of critically failing taking a shirt off.

    Enough so that Anne and Pearl had to remind Sage a few times they weren’t quite done yet, and to be patient. Slightly annoying, sure, but much, much better than the lil’ ghost clinging to her friend in a catatonic silence. All three of them focused intensely at the very last piece of fabric as it was glued on, letting out sighs of relief and squeals of excitement.

    “~Can I can I can I can I?~”

    “~Give the glue a few moments to stick, Sage. It’s not going anywhere, hehe.~”

    “~Pleeeeease?~”

    Anne needed this laughter.

    Not even the brief concern at the ghostie taking it the wrong way could take it away from her, not after Pearl had snagged the younger girl’s attention away shortly after. This was silly, Sage was silly, and Anne needed it so, so much, even if it was technically amusement at someone’s expense. That realization on its own didn’t fully end it there and then, but it gradually cooled it down.

    And while the glue finished curing... the human got another idea.

    With the mon and now-mon chatting between themselves, she placed the wig down and reached into her pencil case once more. Glue has had its moment to shine; pencils were a mainstay, but there was one more thing she always brought with herself, but which she struggled to ever find a use for—until now.

    The familiar chemical scent pulled Sage’s attention over to Anne at hearing the faint pop of a marker cap coming off. Markers were fun, but her parents never let her touch theirs, which left her very, very curious about what would the older girl do with this one. Anne waved at her, “~Sage? Could you... lay down on your back and be very still for a while? I-I have an idea.~”

    The lil’ Phantump followed instructions right away, but their caretaker needed much more persuasion. “^What... is that thing, Anne?^” the Grumpig asked.

    “~J-just a marker, I... okay, lemme explain. Have—have you ever had makeup, Sage?~”

    It was the question with the most obvious answer in the world, but Anne still waited for the younger girl to explain so that she knew she’d caught her attention. “~No.~”

    “~Me neither. But what I thought I-I could do was draw you eyelashes. I know Phantump don’t have eyelashes, I-I don’t even know if they have actual eyeballs, but—~”

    “~Eyelashes?~” Sage asked, tilting her head.

    Anne didn’t have a good way to verbally explain what she meant—which is why she didn’t. Instead, she pulled her notebook over, grabbed a pen, and started sketching. A simplified depiction of a Phantump’s head in the corner, much more elaborate than anything the younger girl could accomplish despite taking around fifteen seconds. “~Yep, I was thinking of adding them like this—~”

    The three lines radiating outwards above both eye holes looked... cartoony and a bit silly even when drawn like this, but it didn’t matter. The only opinion that actually mattered for this idea was Sage’s, and once the connection between this drawn face and herself finally clicked for her, she perked up with a “~gasp! Can I have it?~”

    “~That’s what I was asking,~” Anne giggled.

    “~I want it...~”

    “~Then lay down and lemme draw them on!~”

    This time, Sage was resting on the bedding before Anne could even finish her sentence, trying her hardest to keep herself from shaking too much. As Anne brought the tip of the black marker closer to the rough bark, the Grumpig levitated the sketch over to her to figure out what was going on as well. “^That’s a curious marking. Do, uh... human females draw it on themselves?^”

    Pearl’s phrasing almost completely derailed Anne’s train of thought, the very idea of it silly beyond words. And yet, perfectly reasonable considering how little anyone here really knew about humanity. The human didn’t know how to answer—hardly a unique occurrence—but this time it was less so because of being unfamiliar or awkward about it, and more so because of not knowing how to simplify it enough.

    ‘An overused element of visual design’ was a succinct explanation that would’ve taken a few very much not-succinct hours to explain the full intricacy of, especially in how it related to Sage’s case. Hell, in any other circumstance, all Anne did when spotting it in the public was roll her eyes and bemoan the laziness—hardly something appropriate here.

    Suppose she could try a... more vague way of phrasing it. “~It’s associated with femininity. Anything with big eyelashes looks feminine, i-is what I was thinking.~”

    Sage wasn’t getting the discussion, but she very much liked the idea of looking more feminine.

    Before the Grumpig could probe deeper, Anne’s bootleg tattoo session had started. Neither she nor Sage could gather all the focus needed for their body and hand, respectively, to keep still, but that was where their caretaker stepped in, unnoticed beyond a bit of tingling in the back of the girls’ heads. Drawing on an uneven bark was annoyingly difficult, as was covering it enough to not leave any brown spots poking through, but eventually she got it done.

    She had no idea Sage’s spectral body could lean away from the edge of her wooden face, but it sure came in handy here.

    “~How does it look, how does it look?~” the lil’ ghost asked. Instead of an answer, she instead got the now-finished wig, squealing out loud as she put it on with Pearl’s help. ‘Makeup’ eyelashes—check, braided wig—check, now to see the results—

    ...

    ...

    “~Eeeeeeee!~”

    The spectral wail had blood drain from Anne’s face, terrified that she’d screwed it up and it only made Sage feel worse. Before that idea could get any more fuel, it was dispelled by the half-Tackle, half-hug coming from the ghostly girl, her tiny arms clinging to her side as much as they could. “~Thank you thank you! Eeeeeee, I look like mom! I need to show it to Mr. Yaksha, eeeeeee!~”

    As she regained her bearings, a large smile crept onto Anne’s face, together with a bit of dampness. Oh yes, it had definitely worked out. Sage’s comparison to her mom made the older girl feel simultaneously elated and saddened. She still remembered some of the Phantump’s memories, and the howling wail she’d heard inside them wouldn’t leave her mind for a very, very long time.

    And if that wasn’t bad enough, Anne knew full well that even if a miracle had happened and the two ever ran into each other again, the younger girl’s mom would just think of her as a terrifying omen of the woods—assuming her daughter would even recognize her. Sad to think about, but it didn’t matter for the time being, not with how energetic the lil’ ghostie was. Everyone got a good look—Ember, Zephyr, the littlest ones, many of whom were just about dozing off by then, even Mr. Yaksha—pomf

    Oops.

    Not quite that last one, as it turned out. Not because of anything about him, but because the Phantump had left her wig behind when phasing through the wall’s tent, leaving it falling straight onto the now-confused Shinx immediately below.

    “Aaaa, what is? Can’t see!” the electric kitten mewled. As he tried pawing at his face, Ember whisked the offending item of clothing before his confusion could give way to trying to tear the item apart.

    She got there just in time—no damage to the wig, phew. “D-don’t worry Lyn, it was just something on your face, th-there you go!”

    The Shinx blinked at being able to see again, only to get distracted by the nondescript mass of black fabric, now in the Fire-type’s grasp. It had some bits dangling from it, right in front of him, just had to pounce and—

    “No, Lyn!” the Braixen raised her voice. “This isn’t a toy.”

    The orange shimmer that had surrounded his body went unnoticed for a good few moments as the kitten kept trying—and failing—to make his leap, oblivious to anything going on around him. “Why not jump!?”

    His mews were already difficult to interpret as words from inexperience, and this wasn’t helping one bit. Pearl was in the middle of turning over to help the vixen with one of the trickiest kids they watched over, but Ember had just enough experience to know what to do on her own—just had to catch his attention.

    pat pat

    “Lyyynnn~,” the Braixen whispered. The drawn-out sound, combined with her pleasant warmth, finally made the Shinx look up at her. “This isn’t a toy, sweetie. It’s Sage’s—”

    “~Wh-where is Mr. Yaksha!?~” The Phantump cried out, scared, as she phased back into the room. Her emotions took another downturn at the realization that she’d dropped her wig.

    Nobody gathered had any idea of what had just happened to the Phantump, but with Ember already in the right headspace and right beside her, she picked up the mantle. “Wh-what’s wrong, Sage? Did Mr. Yaksha say—”

    “~I-I can’t find him! H-He was on our bed there, b-but now he’s gone!~”

    As scared about her guardian as the hauntling was, the two caretakers had been in these situations enough times to calm her down. Ember reassured, “He has probably just left for a moment, sweetie. He’ll b-be right back any time now!”

    “~B-b-but he n-never leaves me! He’s always there, d-did something happen to him?~”

    The Grumpig softly shook her head, “^I doubt love. Cmere, we can all wait together for him, how’s that sound? I’m sure he’ll show up any moment now.^”

    Sage went along with the Grumpig’s idea, though mostly for lack of any alternatives. She might’ve only known her guardian for a few weeks, but she could tell that this was really unlike him. Nothing should’ve happened to him since he was there but, but... what if something did anyway?

    Anne wasn’t privy to the fears in her younger friend’s mind, but what she had access to was a distraction. A somewhat... awkward distraction, especially with the person it used to fill for sitting just a few meters away, but a distraction, nonetheless. It brought her out of the worst of her funk many times. Maybe it could help the younger girl, too? “~Hey, Sage?~”

    The undead girl’s shaky expression focused immediately once Anne revealed the figurative ace up her sleeve. A Fennekin plush, about the size of Sage’s head, ready for the taking. It was cute and good-looking enough for the inner child inside Phantump to hover towards it without thinking and hug it tight. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t that much larger than the doll, making her try hopping onto its back as if it were a mount.

    Her unpleasant realization that she didn’t have legs anymore brought an end to that idea, but its soft, polyester fur shielded her from feeling even worse because of that.

    As Sage took in every detail of the little plush, the actual fiery vixen in the room stared at it curiously, before looking over at Anne. She didn’t say anything out loud, or even telepathically, but her question was no less obvious because of it.

    The human chuckled nervously, “~H-heh... I-I found it on the side of the road not long a-after I, I...~”

    Ember knew all too well how that recollection went, wasting no time before climbing on the bed beside her human and holding her as tight as her arms could manage. Both of them held their tears in, if only just, as Anne continued, “~It’s been a-a lot of comfort for me in your absence, y-you know. Reminded me of you, a-and of-of course it wasn’t like you, n-nothing could—~”

    “Shhhhh, I-I get it Anne, I promise.”

    An even tighter hug from the vixen, many more pets from the human. A bunch more wetness from them both as they tried their hardest to hold themselves together. Emotional as she was, though, a realization soon hit her now that she had consciously acknowledged the… convenient timing of when she’d found the doll.

    Guess there was a reason Mrs. Graham didn’t act all that surprised when she’d shown it to her…

    The thought drew more tears from the girl, but only the happiest ones. She really hoped she’d be able to thank the librarian for everything she’d done sometime. With the most tearful smile of her life, Anne then reached to unzip the hidden pocket on the plush’s tummy. From it, she pulled out a single, slightly bent photo. One they’ve both seen so many times, one they could both remember taking even. Anne’s sixth birthday, only a few weeks after they met.

    Already inseparable by then.

    “You’re so cute in this one, Anne,” Ember smiled.

    “~A-and you aren’t? Y-you used to be so, so tiny, hehehe...~”

    With a small grumble, the firefox held her human even tighter. As Anne was about to slide the photo back into hiding, the lil’ hauntling chimed in as well, curious about a different aspect of the photograph. “~Oooo, where did you take it?~”

    If Pearl wasn’t busy looking after the once-again-rowdy kids with Ember leaving her post, she would’ve scrambled over there and taken a close look at just what in the world these three were talking about, there and then.

    “~A-at my old home, Sage,~” Anne explained. “~We used to live with my grandma, many years ago.~”

    Before any sadness could seep into either girl’s minds at the necessity of the past tense in that explanation, the Phantump provided her own source of that emotion, “~I wanna go back to my old home too—~”

    creak, step step, rattle rattle

    The noise from immediately outside their room startled everyone before Sage’s words could seep in, putting them on varying levels of confusion and edge. There was a lot more going on in the rest of the clinic all of a sudden, many more noises and words, too muffled to make out clearly.

    “^Gah damn, something musta happened in there,^” Pearl muttered.

    Before anyone could ask about what was going on out there, the room’s doors parted open, cutting everyone’s train of thought in half immediately—for better and worse reasons. The better reason scrambled onto the bed the moment she saw Anne and Ember there, her eyes still a bit damp but mind deadset on making sure the Braixen was doing alright after the rough night she must’ve had.

    The worse reason leaned in to pick his daughter up and looked towards Anne. She expected the Lucario’s gaze to once more drill straight through her very soul, but... it didn’t, not this time. It only lingered on her for a split-second before the Fighting-type turned around and left right after.

    “Wha-uh—what just happened? Did someone attack?” the Skunky asked, half-asleep. The yawn that followed released much of the room’s tension, though the situation outside remained unexplained.

    Not for long if Cadence had anything to say, though. “^Something bad happened to Mr. Cypress, they—they got attacked by a human trainer...^” she explained, her sad tone noticed by most gathered and acted on by the bed’s affection being squarely redirected towards her, even as everyone processed the harrowing news.

    Everyone but Bell, the Ralts only able to sense his sister not doing good—and with his best friend gone and another friend napping, he wanted to help her! He loved his sister.

    “A-are they okay?” Ember asked.

    “^I-I hope so! They could talk to me and told me not to worry, but were hurt all over and Mr. Lariat carried them. I really hope the healers help them out. They were hurting a lot even if they didn’t say anything about it...^”

    A bunch of reassurance and explanation, much appreciated by everyone. Nobody was under any pretense that Cadence would know more about what had happened, with Ember redirecting the topic once she realized the Kirlia wasn’t doing the best, either. “Our healers are great, they’ll feel better in no time! B-but what about you, C-Cadence?”

    “^I-I—^” the Kirlia tried to answer, her self-consciousness immediately smothered by Ember’s hug. Then by Anne’s, then by Bell’s—paired with a short squeak that had tried and failed to be reassuring words—and finally, by... by...

    “~D-did something happen, Cadence?~” Anne asked. “~You’re really tense.~”

    Couldn’t even hide it from non-psychics, could she. “^I-I’ll be okay Anne, I promise! I just felt bad earlier, a-about myself—^”

    On cue, another salvo of affection, with the older girls sparing no pets as the human reassured, “~B-but you’re great, Cadence! I’m—I’m so glad I got to meet you, you’re really cool.~”

    Ember cut herself off from following up on her best friend’s words because there was nothing more that needed to be said. Anne had gotten it all right, and all Cadence could do was squirm and let the affection sink in as her cheeks threatened to catch on fire and psychics pulled everyone around her. “^Eeeeee, th-thank you Anne, you’re really cool too!^”

    “~Yeah!~” the stranger squeaked, her unfamiliar voice catching the Kirlia’s attention. She’d heard of Phantump before, but not about any that looked like this. The lines above their eyes were a bit weird, but the hair was really pretty! It took her a few moments to realize it was some sort of wig, but that didn’t detract from how cool it came out at all.

    A part of her wanted to touch it and see what it was made of, but something told her it’d be a bad idea. “^Oh! Hi, I’m Cadence; what’s your name? That’s a really cool wig!^”

    Meeting someone new helped with much of her funk as well, especially someone both so interesting and younger than her. Their reeling reaction concerned her for a moment, but it faded as soon as she mentioned their hairdo, immediately replaced with excited elation. “~Eeeeeee, really!? It’s cool!?~”

    Without skipping a beat, Cadence nodded with her entire body—and had one decorated Phantump tacklehug her moments later. “~Thank you! I’m—I’m happy it looks cool, it’s j-just like my mom!~”

    Each reassurance only brought more warmth to Sage’s small body, warmth she had neither words nor an explanation for but which she acutely felt all the same. Cadence returned the gesture an instant later, even standing up and twirling on the spot to express the sudden burst of joy in the room. “^That’s so cool! Your mom must look cool too!^”

    More joy, at least for a moment.

    As happy as the younger girl was to hear her mom being described as cool, it also made her want to see her again even more, something she knew others would probably not receive too well. Her sudden drop in the mood was plain to sense for everyone else, with Bell waddling over just to see what was wrong. Nobody had the time to put words to their worry before the entrance to the room parted again, though.

    Two faces they were all glad to see this time. As happy as Sage was to see one of them, immediately responding to it with another elated squeak, the other one gathered much more attention—and concern—from everyone else.

    “^Mr. Cypress, are you okay!?^” Cadence asked, scared.

    The plentiful bandages covering their purple body answered for the Mismagius. Their sides, their ‘hat’, even their throat, all wrapped in layers of off-white bandage, with some excess salves spilling out from underneath them. Healing Pulses could only do so much for their incorporeal body, but the healers spared no effort on that front, either.

    Cypress wouldn’t have described their situation as ‘okay’ under any other circumstances, but saw it fit to get by with a white lie here. “I cannot deny hurting, but... I will turn out okay, dear Cadence, I have no doubt...”

    “^Our healers know what to do, sweetie~. Honestly, I was more surprised you wanted to join us the moment Esther wrapped the last bandage around you, Cy,^” Autumn chuckled, her tense, yet warm smile sweeping over the rest of the room. Anne was alright, Ember was alright, Sage was a bit sad but had clearly played a fair bit with Anne, Cadence was mostly alright, Bell was Bell.

    Zephyr and Lyn were asleep, hardly something she could’ve blamed them for.

    The Mismagius responded, “Well~, dear Aria had mentioned the arrival of someone special, and I was immensely curious...”

    Said special person let go of Cadence for her hug before focusing on the source of the much more ethereal voice, unsure who the discussion was about or what to say. Something told her she was supposed to be afraid of the purple ghost, but... she didn’t know why, leaving her just tilting her wigged head at them and giving them a timid wave. One eagerly returned.

    “Oh, how curious. I had intended to ask about whether anyone had helped her remember who she once was, but it appears that I’m the one way behind for once...” Cypress laughed, the sound cut short by their side injury flaring up, making them flinch.

    The movement drew others’ attention to that part of their body as well, leaving them staring in terrified concern as they internally mulled over what could’ve just taken a bite out of such an experienced scout.

    Fear that the scout themselves was very aware of, and was keen to calm down as soon as they could. “I am injured, yes, but my situation will only improve. Your attention is best spent not fearing for me~...”

    “What happened, M-Mr. Cypress? Did you r-r-really get attacked b-by a ‘trainer’?” Ember asked. Her shaking answered what she thought about that possibility for her, quickly soothed by her friends’ affection.

    The Ghost-type didn’t even pretend they had a way out of this without going into detail, and felt it best to just dive into it so that they could switch topics to something more pleasant sooner. “Indeed, dear Ember. They had snuck on me during my patrol, and attempted t-to cap—capture me...”

    Cypress might have covered the emotions surrounding the traumatic situation well enough to not make either of the gathered psychics panic, but that didn’t extend to their speech. They wordlessly cursed themselves for their own words betraying them, but everyone else was too aghast at what they said to dig into how they said it.

    Besides, after an experience like that, ‘traumatized’ was the usual assumed outcome, anyway.

    That’s where most others’ pondering would’ve stopped, but... Cadence was curious. Too curious for her own good, likely, but after hearing so many horror stories about these and other human inventions, she couldn’t resist asking the most obvious question, “^What was it like, Mr. Cypress?^”

    As well as the Mismagius had covered their previous emotional response to that thought, they didn’t quite manage to repeat that feat. Fear, fury, agony—the Kirlia had never associated the ghost with any strong emotions, good or bad, but could blatantly sense this situation involving many of these most intense of feelings. She knew she’d made a mistake asking long before the scout had responded; they didn’t need to heap more onto her plate.

    Might as well answer to the best of their ability. “The most blissful nightmare I can imagine...”

    Nobody knew how to interpret their response. In all likelihood, nobody who hadn’t experienced what they did would ever really understand it. For the best, as far as Cypress was concerned. “Following that, and my successful escape, a fight broke out between me, them, and their... combatant...”

    This time, no questions were needed—the aftermath of that was plain to see.

    “Regrettably, I... attacked said trainer, as well. Cruelly, nigh unspeakably. I have no excuse for that act, naught but an indescribable fury that flowed through me at that instant...”

    “~D-did they survive?~” Anne asked, afraid—but not of the Mismagius. Their actions were entirely understandable considering their situation—and it was that situation that sounded like a nightmare come to life for everyone involved.

    “Yes, I... I presume so.” Cypress answered. “They were hurt, but standing by the time dear Lariat rescued me...”

    The human in the room aside, most others felt... differently about a trainer being attacked, and some needed a while to fully grasp all the implications of such an act.

    “B-but they attacked you first, Mr. Cypress. Y-you were just defending yourself.”

    Cypress flinched at hearing apologia for their own actions, no matter how well-intentioned. “I assure you, dear Ember, that the form and extent of my response to their act was disproportionate. Their actions were cruel, but so were mine. Equal revenge does not enact justice; it merely propagates suffering. I could have run, I should have run...”

    The calm explanation had left the Braixen much more uncomfortable about her earlier attitude than any chiding could have ever accomplished. Even beyond moral objections to the ghostly scout’s actions, though, there were plenty others, the realization making Autumn mumble out loud, “This will draw so much attention—gasp!”

    The room’s eyes went wide at that obvious-in-hindsight observation, chilling the air immensely. Pearl might’ve left soon after Autumn had returned, passing over the translation burden to the other psychic, but everyone else awake had felt the immediate shift in the room, even if its two youngest members didn’t really know why it happened.

    Before the resulting terror could grow any further, though, the one person who knew the most about what would happen spoke up, asking for details, “~D-did you say that they tried to catch you, a-and then you attacked them after you broke out?~”

    Anne was unusually focused on the topic at hand, the fear in the room crystallizing into something actionable. She wasn’t deluding herself to think a situation like that couldn’t result in some nasty consequences, but knew enough of how things actually worked on the human side of the equation to know that it wasn’t as simple as guaranteed doom, either.

    Cypress answered, “Correct, dear Anne. I presume you’re familiar with this topic, judging by your thoughtfulness...?”

    “~I-I wouldn’t say familiar, it’s—I had to study i-it for my self-defense class a couple months ago. I-I still remember a lot, and we had to memorize so many b-boring documents for the test...~”

    While what Anne was referencing was clearly similar to the classes every little one in their village was encouraged to attend, the differences were immense and very apparent. The only rote memorization most little ones of the village ever did was getting a good grasp on how other types affected them, and vice versa. The word ‘test’ was particularly difficult to translate into something anyone around understood in any sort of intuitive way, sending a mild headache Autumn’s way before she settled on a rough approximation of ‘knowledge check’.

    “~I think I g-got it now,~” the girl continued. “~Section four hundred... something, article three, ratified in 526. An intervention on the hand of a federally approved League trainer in response to an offense by a wild pokemon against a human shall be authorized if and only if the pokemon in question had engaged in an unprovoked assault on a civilian without an active League trainer license within three miles of the legal border of a township, or had committed a murder.~”

    Anne took a while to rub her temples at having to dig so deep into her memories, with everyone else mostly just taken aback at the sudden wave of jargon and humanese. “~Th-that hurt to recall. B-but in short, since that was a trainer a-and not a civilian, as long as they didn’t die, nothing should come of it as far as the League is concerned. I-I don’t think there’s any specific regional law for this either, th-the teacher had mentioned nothing like that.~”

    The clarification helped explain the ‘what’, but not the ‘why’. Other kids swallowed it without questions, but the adults were rather perplexed why human law would treat their ‘trainers’ differently in what appeared to be an entirely negative way.

    “I see...” Cypress whispered, “that is a curious distinction, dear Anne. Why would these ‘trainers’ be given less protection? That makes little sense, personally...”

    “~I-I don’t know, but... I-I think it’s like, they’re expected to be strong, right? O-or their mons are expected to be strong. And if a civilian does get hurt, trainers are the ones that get called in to investigate. If they and their mons are so weak they can’t even protect themselves from wild mons, then they won’t be able to ‘protect’ anyone from them, and that’s supposed to be their duty.~”

    Autumn had almost blurted out that one of those sure needed protecting from the other, but not that way around, but... held herself back, in the end. By now, they probably did, with how much wild mons must’ve hated them on the whole. Before she could despair more on what felt like a conflict with no possible resolution, Cypress summed it up differently, “I can imagine that approach breeding further hostility towards wildlings in these... ‘trainers’. Unfortunate all around...”

    ‘Unfortunate’ was an intentionally mild choice of words, but the gathered kids were mostly unfamiliar with enough swear words to really phrase it in a way that accurately represented reality. An unfortunate topic, though Ember soon latched onto another curious thing she’d spotted in her friend’s words, “Anne? Wh-what did you mean by ‘526’ there? That’s a... year?”

    Not something the human expected to arouse curiosity, but she was glad to explain all the same.

    “~Oh yes, that’s... I suppose that’s the number of that year, yes. You could s-say that each year gets a number that shows h-how many years it’s been since the Kanto Reunification, and right now it’s year 549.~” Anne explained the mystery, only to immediately replace it with seven more.

    Or, in Sage’s case, to start reminding her of something she could still remember. Before she could fully excavate those memories, though, Autumn chimed back in, “^That ‘Kanto Reunification’ event sounds important... what’s ‘Kanto’, anyway? Is it a place?^”

    While many companies would’ve despaired at anyone, even a pokemon, remaining unaware of the most important place in the whole wide world, Anne had no such attachment to that distant land. If anything, she shared the same mild distaste for it most others had—even if much of their culture still clung to exports from that country. “~I-it’s a land very far away, yes. It used to be broken into many tiny peoples that constantly warred against each other, and when they conquered each other enough to unify again, that’s when the years started being counted from.~”

    As straightforward as the explanation was at its core, it still relied on many terms that were just absent from the vocabulary of most denizens of the village.

    ‘War’ was a very difficult concept to translate for people without a standing army, whose only enemy was a force so unfathomably large they couldn’t even conceive of it in full, let alone imagine fighting it. ‘Conquest’ was similarly tricky, though there at least allusions could be made to the expected treatment of them by the humans if they ever ended up being discovered.

    “That’s an... oddly peculiar choice of event to base such a count on...” Cypress commented, curious.

    Anne couldn’t disagree one bit—and neither could any other kid in her class. The explanation took a good few years to really stick, and only the eventual history class really provided enough context for the event’s significance to sink. “~It is, yeah. I-it’s not our choice, Kanto is thousands of miles away. But around... two, three hundred years ago, they went on a conquest around the world, because they were the first ones that—that made pokeballs.~”

    While Cadence and Ember just mentally reclassified the aforementioned region from ‘distant place’ to ‘evil distant place’, Autumn had a very different reaction to Anne’s remark. She might’ve overlooked the significance of the ‘year number’ earlier, but couldn’t this time, asking, “^Two, three hundred years ago? That is some ancient, ancient history, how does anyone remember that?^”

    “~It’s not even ancient, that’s early modernity, I-I think. Ancient is thousands of years ago, b-but I think we still have many recordings from then...~” Anne explained, only adding to Autumn’s confusion.

    The small tribe from which the Indeedee had originated only held memories from two, maybe three, generations ago, before they were invariably lost by one major upheaval or another. She’d heard of the power of codified oral traditions from others, notably Celia, but this had to have been something else entirely—

    “~Oh oh, I remember!~” Sage squeaked, excited, snatching the room’s attention.

    Anne snapped out of the resulting mass stun first, “~What—what do you remember, Sage?~”

    “~Five hundred and forty-one! October, and... uh... five? Or fifteen!~”

    The string of words would’ve been utter gibberish even to most humans, but the logic behind it clicked for Anne the moment she tried visualizing it all. “~Fifteenth October, 541—~”

    “~Yeah!~”

    “~Is that your date of birth?~”

    “~...yeah?~”

    Sage was much less confident in her answer than she wished she had been. She knew this date was important and recalled being taught it again and again by her parents and teachers alike, but was woefully uncertain of what it actually meant. The realization of just how little she remembered deflated her somewhat, making her older friend intervene.

    And then, all the other kids.

    It helped, but wasn’t enough. Slowly remembering more and more of her past life, more of her family, all of that was so good and appreciated—but it also brought despair of knowing more about a treasure she could never have. Every unearthed facet of her mom was yet another happy memory that would never be replicated, no matter how much she wanted to.

    The crushing reality of her fate ground into her more and more with each thought, and Sage wanted it to stop. To escape all this, to escape to the place that had always been safe. It should’ve been possible, right? To make those memories not just memories again?

    To return?

    “~I wanna go home...~” Sage whimpered.

    Nobody could resist the profound sadness that statement brought with itself—nobody but Sage herself, seemingly. It hurt so much, but she knew she’d need to remember her home first to find it. She remembered more and more of her family with each passing moment, her older sister and younger brother, her mom and dad and grandpa, and soon the recollection extended to her once-home, too.

    Maybe it was possible.

    Cadence let out a startled squeal as the Phantump phased straight through her, leaving only freezing cold and her wig in her wake. It made them all look over to where she’d hovered, only for everyone awake but Cypress to jump in their seats at realizing that one particular Banette had been sitting on the other corner of the bedding in silence for an unknown amount of time, away from the small gathering. The steadily creeping darkness didn’t help, held at bay soon after by a couple of fresh Will-o’-Wisps.

    “~M-Mr. Yaksha?~” the Phantump asked. “~C-can I go back home to my parents?~”

    Despite having known Sage for much longer, the Banette didn’t know how to respond any more than anyone else around. He’s had enough time to let the realization that she was a human once finish hitting him, as profoundly uncomfortable as it was. With that in mind, her going back to other humans sounded like a nice thing to have happen, putting aside the inherent human awfulness, but... how feasible was it, really?

    “~Sage... do you even remember where—~”

    “~Yes! It was in Lillywood!~”

    “~L-Lillywood is a large town, Sage. There are thousands and thousands of people in there, d-do you remember anything else?~” Anne asked.

    Her question, as necessary as it was, didn’t do the younger girl’s spirits much good. “~Yeah, I-I do! It had a green roof, a-and was large, and... a-and...~”

    Yaksha wasn’t any better suited to comforting others than he was to running a human fanclub, but this little child needed him, goddammit. His expression softened as he hovered closer to the ghostie, opening his arms wide. “~Sage, come here. You’re safe now.~”

    As much as she wanted to withdraw into her stump and hide from the world again, Sage persevered and disagreed with her guardian, tears streaking down her mask as she shook it from side to side. “~I don’t want to be safe, I-sniff-I wanna go home!~”

    Her composure didn’t last much longer, but by the time it broke completely, the Banette was already holding her tight. He didn’t have anyone to blame for this outburst. It wasn’t like anyone here had planted such an impossible idea into her head—he hoped, at least. He couldn’t empathize, any and all memories of what or who he once was long forgotten, but his sympathy was still there. He was still there.

    “Putting aside the logistics of finding dear Sage’s past home, I am uncertain how other scouts would react to her wish...” Cypress commented.

    Their words had Autumn turn to face them in unnerved shock, unsure what they were implying. “^Do you think she shouldn’t get to rejoin her family, Cypress?^”

    “Of course not, dear Autumn. Our village is not, can not be, a cage for her. To keep such a clearly human soul away from the family she wishes to reunite with is pure cruelty. And yet... I fear not all will see it this way, particularly when the risk of our village being revealed is concerned...”

    “^Well, what other bloody way is there then!? Can that council of yours just not get enough cruelty, and would trap a child away from her family because it’s inconvenient for us!?^”

    “Dear Autumn, I wish to remind you I am on your side. No, that would never be an adequate justification, no. I merely wonder what others will do once they learn of this. I can only imagine further paranoia, and I am not enjoying that image in the slightest...”

    “~If any of yours even bloody thinks they’ll force her to stay here, then they have another thing coming!~” Yaksha shouted.

    Before the children could grow even more uncomfortable at the ever-growing hostility in the air, the exchange abruptly stopped. Both Cypress and Autumn stared into the middle distance for a while, before focusing on each other, the realization clear on both their faces.

    Cadence asked, “^Grandma?^” Before she would get a response, though, the two adults turned and left the room, coming to a stop right in front of the healer tent. The shift in mood was scary enough for nobody to be eager to investigate what was going on—not physically, at least.

    Cadence felt Anne hold her tighter as she probed the rest of the tent with her aura, trying to spot what had chilled the air so much—only for Ember’s gasp to answer that question an instant before she found out by herself.

    The fairy had no idea why Mrs. Cinder’s appearance would be so shocking to everyone, or why would it make Ember of all people so scared, but she wasn’t liking it one bit. In no time, both she and Ember were clinging to the blissfully unaware human and the other, littler fairy, the sheer tension in the room the only thing still keeping the latter awake.

    Bell asked, confused, “Why is everyone scared?”

    “~I-I wish I knew, Bell—~”

    On cue, the two psychic teens in the room sensed movement in the tent once more, this time heading back towards them. And to their chagrin and confusion alike, the two familiar auras were accompanied by the third they had walked out of the tent to meet, with all three of them clearly feeling some combination of anxiety, sorrow, and anger.

    Thankfully for everyone around, Cinder only showed the former two.

    Cadence had never seen her be this shaken, by anything. Always proud, ever imposing, unwavering in her instructions, in her demonstrations, in her personality. And yet, there she was, a shattered mess with matted fur all over, a slouched posture, ears pulled back, and regret dripping from every single strand of fur. Her expression, entirely unfocused.

    At least, until she finally dared moving her gaze from the carpeted floor to the little gathering on the bed, the sight sending fear through Ember and Anne alike. They knew what she had done, and there was nothing she could do to undo it. She couldn’t change the past, but the future was within her grasp, even if only some of it. And even if it wouldn’t amount to anything, even if she would rightfully never be forgiven, even if she’d truly wasted her one chance at life,

    She had to try.

    The room flinched as the Delphox dropped onto her knees in the middle of it, shrinking even further as she bowed towards her daughter. Before she could speak up, at last, the Braixen cut her off, “M-m-mom, Anne is my friend, she—she’d never hurt me! She-she just wants me to be happy, p-PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!”

    The fear and urgency in Ember’s voice drove a claw through her mother’s heart, making her bleed tears. She remained slouched over as she visibly shook, expression scrunching in the agony of her own making, before finally responding, “^I-I won’t hurt you two ever again, Ember. I-I apologize, to you, t-t-to Anne. I’ve violated your memories, hurt her through inaction, I took away the hope the—the other provided, I... I’m sorry.^”

    The Braixen had lost her fight against her tears at the same time as her mom. This hurt, even just being aware of what the Delphox before her had done hurt, how much pain she’d caused her, how much fear, how many panic attacks at having to relive her darkest memories without the human-shaped flame of home holding her at that very moment. Some of her wanted to shout, to shriek at the older vixen to leave and never come back, to yell about how evil she was—but she couldn’t.

    Because she loved her.

    She didn’t want to shout at her, or shriek, or yell, or run, or cry.

    She just wanted her and Anne to be safe.

    Quiet sobbing gave way to a piercing wail as Ember scrambled out of her friend’s embrace and staggered over to Cinder, thin arms clinging to her with all the strength they still had in them as their tears mixed. The Delphox could feel it all, she was too close not to feel that battle inside her daughter. And as much as she felt like she deserved the very worst, to be told to go through with what she’d unsuccessfully attempted and reduce her body to her namesake, that wasn’t for her to decide.

    It was for Ember, and Ember wanted her mom. “I-I love you m-mom... b-but it hurts... it all hurts...”

    And her mom wanted Ember, too. “^I love you too, Ember. I won’t—won’t hurt you again, I won’t...^”

    With the single most strained action of her life, Cinder forced herself to look up at the bedding, forced herself to look the injured human sitting there in the eye. To take in the image of this harmless, spurned child and face just how much harm she’d done, how much vitriol she’d spewed in the name of hatred towards her. Not the people who had actually hurt her daughter, not the system that denied them safety, but another innocent victim.

    She wouldn’t let herself forget until she died. And until then...

    “^...I won’t let anyone hurt you, Anne, ever again.^”

    ...she knew what she had to do to make up for what she’d done.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 28: Nightfall

    • Chapter 28: Nightfall​


    The rest of Aria’s scouting shift was uneventful. As far as she was concerned, it was the only blessing she’d be receiving today.

    Tension gripped her body like a vise as she approached the village she called home, much of its tranquility undone by the anxious murk roiling around in her mind. It was the one place she felt truly safe in the entire world—it used to be that place, at least. Now, it felt just that bit more alien, just that bit more unwelcoming.

    None of that was aimed at her, but that didn’t make it any better.

    As difficult as it was, as much as a part of her wanted to kidnap Anne from her bed and run away from it all in a doomed, erratic impulse to keep her safe, she knew she had to push on. Push on, talk with her, escort her over to the Elders’ meeting,

    And do her best to argue that Anne’s inherent worth as a living being outweighed any security risks, real or imagined.

    Her feet hovered half an inch above the snow as she glided through the increasingly vacant streets. In her mind, a constant refrain to keep breathing. Such a basic, downright trivial thing, and it still helped. Whether it would help enough remained to be seen. The village being almost completely dark made it all even worse.

    Too late for many day dwellers to still be around, too early for most of their nocturnal inhabitants to be awake. A limbo of dark silence and scattered lights peeking out of the closed burrows and huts. Would they extend their comfort to the little human that needed them the most? Only one way to find out.

    “Evening, Aria,” a familiar voice greeted. The Gardevoir felt her body jolt as it turned to face it before she could even think; the faint glow around her eyes soon dispelled at realizing who it was as they chuckled, “Good gods, you’re stressed, eh?”

    “I... yes, yes I am, Geiger.”

    His smile wasn’t a sight many were privy to, but his students, be they current or former, always got that privilege. As tense as the situation was, he didn’t hesitate waving her over to the tea corner’s doorway, the alluring scents coming from the inside encouraging her further.

    The Magnemite she’d seen yesterday was still attached to his arm, asleep.

    “I-I don’t know if I have the time,” Aria whispered.

    “One of those old coots is gonna be late anyway; don’t worry about it Aria. Besides—you look like you’d use a heartwarming drink much more than any value anyone else might get out of getting it all wrapped up a few minutes sooner. Sounds like that whole vote is gonna go well into the night either way.”

    She didn’t necessarily disagree with the Electivire, but it still felt... disrespectful. Then again, considering that several of the people she’d once respected felt it appropriate to disrespect Anne’s personhood, she could repay them in kind, at least a bit. “...Alright.”

    “There ya go!”

    With his once-student agreeing to a detour, Geiger thought it best to bring a drink to her instead of having her do it herself. Beyond his snark, she was right—the sooner she got there, the better. She wasn’t gonna do any good in this anxious of a state, though, and a warm, sweet tea was one way he could help with that.

    After finding her hands too shaky to hold the cup upright, the Gardevoir switched to telekinesis instead. Even her all-too-familiar white glow wasn’t as stable as she wished it was, but it was thankfully enough to keep any tea from spilling.

    “So... how’s it all looking?” the Electivire asked.

    With her mouth busy sipping at the hot drink, Aria switched back to telepathy, “^I wish I could say ‘well’, but I’m really unsure. None of the Elders look encouraging, I have no idea if anyone against her staying is even open to any arguments to the contrary... and to make it all worse, Cypress got attacked by a human trainer earlier.^”

    That last remark in particular caught the Electivire’s attention, making him glance over at her mid-sip. “Unfortunate. Just an attack of aggression, an attempt at catching her, or something else?”

    “^I think they were trying to catch her, but Cypress’ recollection of it all was limited.^”

    “Does it make you worry she’ll be so soured by that experience she’ll argue against the girl getting to stay here?”

    Aria flinched at the pointed question, especially with her answer being so ugly. “^I-I wish I could say that I don’t, but... I can’t. She’s been wonderful and a great help looking after Anne, but the way she described that ‘ball’ she was in, and with the trainer’s mon hurting her so badly... I don’t know. I trust her, I want to trust her, b-but—^”

    “I get it, don’t worry.”

    The reassurance only did so much to wash the worst of her fear out of Aria’s mind, but it was better than nothing.

    “^I know I shouldn’t be—^”

    “No, I really get it, Aria. I don’t blame you one bit. Fear makes monsters of us all, including in our imaginations. All I can hope for is that after all is said and done, you’ll be able to look back at those fears and see them for the absurdities that they are.”

    She nodded flatly in response, feeling just that bit colder on the inside.

    “Not like any threat I used to teach you about, eh?”

    The remark sparked the most pitiful of smiles on her face, fueled further by another sip of the sweet tea. Indeed, nothing like anything else the Electivire had taught her. Nothing like anything he could have ever taught her. “^It’s so much worse.^”

    “Sounds like it.”

    “^B-because it’s not just some distant shapeless humanity or wild predators, it’s... us. We’re the ones doing it to someone; we’re the ones hurting someone much weaker than ourselves because of misplaced fear and prejudice. How do you even fight that?^”

    Uncertain silence surrounded them for a few seconds as Geiger finished his swig, stretching slightly afterwards. “As far as I’m concerned, same as always. That’s something I drilled into you all a ton—”

    “^Yes, yes... acknowledge it, measure it, mitigate it.^”

    “I’ve been pedantic to hell about these for a reason—because they work. Worked for me back in my old life, works here too.”

    “^I know, I know. I’ve been doing these as much as I can, trying to reach people that are likely to vote against her, but what if it’s just not enough? What if I do everything I possibly could to keep her safe, to sway others, and they still decree that she should be left behind?^”

    Despite all the worst-case scenario plans she’d been trying to set for herself, despite all the promises, that fateful question did not get any less harrowing to consider. And while Geiger wasn’t aware of anything the Gardevoir had done to prepare herself for that scenario... he still suspected it. “Something tells me you already have something in mind for it—mitigated it at least somewhat.”

    No immediate response beyond further pensiveness. He wasn’t ever the biggest one for physical affection, but if there was any opportunity to use it for good, it was here. Keeping himself as restrained as he could, Geiger patted Aria’s shoulder a few times, startling her out of staring at the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup and almost toppling her over. “Ahaha, my bad,” he chuckled. “I meant it, though. I know you have a plan Aria, you’re too smart not to.”

    The compliment worked a bit better, forcing a weak smile and a deep breath as the Gardevoir tried to mentally reset herself. He was right; she had a plan—but it was a woefully vague plan. “^Right. I talked with Anne this morning, confessed to everything that’s going on. I... I made a promise to her. A promise that no matter what happens, she’ll be safe. Even if it takes my entire family having to leave to ensure so.^”

    A firm nod from the Electivire—continue.

    “^It’s something, but... I haven’t even told Garret or Marco. What if it really comes to pass? What if we have to risk running into the wilderness again just to keep her safe from the village? It’s one thing to claim that, another thing to mean it—and I do mean it—but what if brings danger to the rest of my family?^”

    It was a question without an answer, and both of them were well aware. There was a place for acknowledging, measuring, and mitigating, but when it came to running for someone’s life, the time to carefully plan out one’s next step was a luxury rarely afforded.

    Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as the Gardevoir feared it would be, either.

    “If it really comes to it, if you have to run to keep her safe... then I can guarantee you won’t be the only one leaving,” Geiger reassured. The implications were clear and yet no less shocking; Aria’s eyes went wide as she stared at the Electric-type, making him chuckle, “Hah, what’s so surprisin’? I stayed here for a reason, after all. I know my strength, I know that if it came to it, I would be entirely alright on my own in these woods, if forced to resort to predation.”

    He wasn’t done yet, still holding the psychic’s attention despite the morbid tangent.

    “Back all those years ago, when I first stumbled here, when I first spoke with Orion... I saw a spark in him. A vision to really make this place something so much larger than the sum of its parts, so much greater than what any of us could do alone. And if it turns out said vision has now entirely rotted into the same kind of cruelty-by-committee that humanity is so fond of, I don’t want to be a part of it any longer.”

    The frank admission took a while to finish worming itself into Aria’s mind. Once it did, though, it made her feel a bit lighter. There was still the inherent horror of so many people being indirectly forced to abandon their homes because of someone else’s cruelty, one she loathed to inflict on anyone else, or even rhetorically nudge in that direction.

    When it came entirely from them, it was almost bearable.

    “^That’s... incredibly kind of you, Geiger,^” she whispered.

    “No, it’s not.”

    A lifted eyebrow above a worried expression conveyed the Gardevoir’s concerns wordlessly, and the Electric-type didn’t hesitate to elaborate, “It’s mighty kind of you, Aria. You’re the one putting your family on the line, first and foremost. I’ve been here for a while, but I have little in the way of earthly attachments. I could get up, run behind the horizon, and only a few people would ever really notice I left. Don’t thank me, take pride in yourself for taking a stand.”

    She didn’t know what to say in response. In a way, she supposed her actions were admirable—but they were also thoughtless, sticking with her most basic impulses come hell or high water. Just because they were basic, it didn’t mean they weren’t correct, though. “^I suppose. It just feels incredibly rash—^”

    “Justice being rash doesn’t make it any less just.”

    “^Right. Well, thank...^” Aria trailed off. As she chewed through their exchange, a memory from yesterday evening crept back into her mind, providing some much-needed levity in the tense situation. She teased, “^I think there is someone who would notice you’re gone. And that same someone would just so happen to leave with me if needed to protect Anne.^”

    Guess Electivire can blush; who could’ve thought.

    “I’ve no idea what... sigh, yeah, you got me. But that doesn’t take away from my thrust!”

    It took Aria her entire supply of willpower to keep herself from twisting the word ‘thrust’ into a different meaning in her mind. “^Right, right~.^”

    “Hah. Jokes aside, I do mean it. Yes, my reasons might be less than pure, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be alone in taking a stand by following you out if need be. Hell, Holly’s so eager about pushing the girl’s safety into everyone’s face you would’ve thought she’s her bodyguard. I can only imagine how she’d react to being told that some old coots voted to toss her out—and if she goes, you know full well she’s dragging Jovan with herself. Won’t let the little brother stay in such a rotten place, ha!”

    That... yeah. He had a point.

    “^I see. Well, thank you for the chat, Geiger,^” Aria sighed, feeling that bit lighter.

    “Anytime, Aria~. Lemme grab that cup from you. I can only imagine how bloody terrifying all this is for you, but... I believe in ya, girl. And I’m sure so does Anne. And who knows—maybe once she ends up staying, I’ll get to ask her what in the world does my name mean, ha! Now, off you go—you’ve got a life to save, after all.”

    If only Aria believed in herself, too.

    With one last exchange of waves and thanks, the Gardevoir took her leave, mind spinning even faster at everything it had learned. On one hand, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone helped immensely, but on the other, it only added an even larger weight onto her back. It wasn’t just Anne she was fighting for—it was her children; it was her husband; it was Geiger; it was Holly.

    It was the integrity of her entire village. She had a hard time thinking of a more worthy thing to fight for, but good gods, if it didn’t help with all the pressure. Despite it all, she breathed just that bit easier afterwards.

    During her chat, the little commune had plunged even deeper into darkness—now counterbalanced by the wisps of light illuminating the streets. It’d still be some time until the night life really began—but by then, she hoped to already be at the Elders’ tent with Anne.

    A detour wouldn’t help with that goal, but considering who it was she’d just run into up ahead... she might as well try. To her surprise, she didn’t even have to be the one initiating, the all-too-familiar rough voice grating her ears that bit more than it used to, “Aria, did you hear about that Phantump?”

    It was acutely hard for her not to have heard about them. “^Yes I have, Lumi. Did something happen to her?^”

    A non-human topic of discussion had the Luxray more chipper than he’d been for the past few days, but it didn’t take long for Aria’s anxiety to rub itself off on him. Thankfully, the sleeping Shinx on his back was too desensitized to any shocks to notice anything afoul, squirming further into his dad’s fur as the Luxray explained, “Dunno if anything happened, but sure sounds like something ain’t right with her. Cypress said she used to be a human or something—load of nonsense as far as I’m concerned. There’s no way a human could even turn into one of us. It just doesn’t work like that.”

    Aria was only paying half attention to Lumi’s diatribe, too focused on making sure she was gathering the right words. The mention of Sage being a human was a very worrisome one, but she didn’t have the spare brainpower to fully investigate the implications of it at the moment. “^I think I’d rather trust Cypress about that as opposed to your gut...^”

    “You’d think, but c’mon. She’s just a normal Phantump. Wearing something silly on her head, but still a Phantump—no way a human soul would end up as one. It’d have to be something bloody monstrous.”

    It was neither helpful nor time-efficient to chew Lumi out for what he was implying there, but Aria still only barely stopped herself from doing so—she had something very different in mind for the Luxray. “^Lumi?^” she asked, sullen tone snagging his attention as his piercing, yellow-red eyes looked at her uncertainly. “^Can I ask you, as a friend, to not hurt Ember with your vote?^”

    The phrasing made him flinch and open his maw as if about to speak—but no words came. No words could, she imagined. She felt his emotions shrink from proud bravado and yapping about things he didn’t understand, to being almost... chided. Whether it would last—or amount to anything, it remained to be seen.

    It was also enough to make him scurry away without saying another word. Once again, Aria was left alone, with only snow and dark to keep her company.

    And purpose burning in her soul.

    The large tent of their clinic was filled only with occasional strained breaths and shuffling of bodies on linen.

    As yesterday, a faint light peeked out from underneath the entrance to what had become Anne’s room, but it’d be a moment until Aria investigated it. True, she could feel the one aura she certainly didn’t expect or want to sense in there, but since both the Delphox and everyone around her were doing alright—beyond being stressed—they could wait a minute.

    The Phantump was already asleep by the time she got there, the Banette watching closely over her. His pink eyes narrowed at seeing someone approach, but relaxed not long after once they realized just who exactly it was in the darkness.

    Not someone he liked, but someone he could at least trust. “~Good evening.~”

    “^Greeting, Yaksha. I’ve heard that Sage—^”

    “~Yes, she used to be a human,~” the Banette grumbled out. The words were strained, but genuine, and as conflicted as he clearly was over that fact, he was putting said conflict aside for the sake of tending to the hauntling under his watch, and that’s all Aria could’ve ever expected from him. And then some.

    As the Gardevoir squinted at the asleep ghost, she could just barely make out something large and dark covering her head. A misfolded blanket, maybe? Whatever it was, it would have to wait, wait until tomorrow. Until forever, potentially. “^I see. Did that realization help her feel better?^”

    Hardly a single, definite answer to a question like that. The Banette grumbled, slowly shaking his head in uncertainty, before settling on the world’s weakest nod.

    “~In a way. It let her remember who she was, and I’m—I’m glad she does. But it uncovered a lot of grief, too, and wanting to go back to her human family. I don’t want to deny her that, or anything, but it feels like she’s setting herself up for more pain.~”

    Aria shuddered at the image of a little sad ghost weeping at being torn away from her family once more—this time deliberately. “^I can only imagine how painful it’d be for her.^”

    The ‘wants to leave village to return to humanity’ part of Sage’s wish had a hard time settling in Aria’s mind, already so full of worrying for everything else. She didn’t want to be the one trying to convince everyone that the Phantump deserved to be able to leave them—she agreed with that, of course she did, but she could only imagine that entire topic lowering Anne’s chances even more.

    Something for another day, hopefully.

    “~I’m glad that Anne girl at least got her this,~” the Banette sighed. “Makes her feel a lot better. Can’t remember her sleeping this soundly in a while.~”

    Yaksha’s spectral hand gently stroked over the unidentified black mass at the top of Sage’s head, making the little one shift in her dreams. The mention of Anne took Aria aback, especially as it clicked in her head just what the injured and equally scared human girl had done.

    It made her feel so warm, on par with hearing about Cadence or Bell having helped someone. “^I’m glad to hear. Is it a... head covering?^”

    “~Seems like a wig. Maybe it’s how she kept her hair back in her human life, I’m unsure.~”

    Curious, but not a topic to get into there and then. “^I see. I hope the night passes calmly for you two.^”

    “~So do I. Something’s heavy in the air, I can feel it.~”

    You don’t know the half of it.

    With the weakest nod of her life, Aria turned around and approached the entrance to Anne’s room. The emotions she felt from inside were the opposite of reassuring—anxiety from everyone, though very unequal in intensity. Arguably, the rational response to what would happen in just a couple of hours.

    The flaps parting caught the attention of all the awake occupants, providing relief to most of them. Cinder was the one exception, staring down at the floor as the sleeping Ember sat on her lap.

    Anne held the younger vixen’s paw from a distance, not daring to touch the Delphox as others present congregated around her. Cadence held her side, Autumn patted her shoulder, Bell squirmed uncomfortably on her lap, too tense to sleep and only barely keeping himself from crying.

    Everyone else, already gone.

    “^Mom, what—what’s going on? Anne is so scared, and she doesn’t want to tell us and it makes us scared too and we just want to help, and—^” Cadence asked, her telepathic whisper soon interrupted by the feeling of her mom’s psychic embrace. The warmth undid some of the tension, at least temporarily.

    Aria didn’t want to tell her—not now, not ever—she didn’t want to ruin the image of their village as a safe place in the Kirlia’s mind. She would have to anyway if things went awry, but that was then. And now; she just wanted her children to feel safe, “^I will tell you later, sweetie. I know how stressful this is, and I really wish it wasn’t like that. Me and—and other scouts are doing what we can to help Anne, and we’ll figure it out soon.^”

    The Kirlia wasn’t convinced, holding the injured human even firmer. “^B-but she’s so scared, a-and I’m so scared—and you’re scared too, I can feel it! Is someone gonna hurt us?^”

    If only it was as easy as someone out there wanting to hurt us. “^I can’t talk about it right now, Cadence. It’s—it’s scout stuff, I’m sorry to say.^”

    She felt the sorrow seep deeper into her daughter’s soul, but there was nothing she could do to help. Autumn was keen on helping however she could, though, holding the Kirlia tight from behind. Anne had no idea about the exchange that had just taken place, and her pose didn’t let her contribute much, but one shaking, petting hand was better than nothing.

    It was time to address them all. Aria spoke with her physical voice, “Hey. I need you all to leave me and Anne alone for now. Autumn, could you—”

    “^Sure thing, Aria,^” Indeedee answered. The resolve in her voice was a welcome departure from the surrounding stress, but even it was clearly strained.

    As tired as Ember clearly was, her mom getting up to carry her away stirred her out of her sleep, making her look around the room in groggy confusion. “Wh-what’s going on? Mom, why are we leaving?”

    Cinder almost only barely forced herself to look into Aria’s eyes; it was almost too painful to imagine. And yet, she pushed through, wordlessly asking if her daughter already knew. Unfortunately, she did, making her mother explain, “^Ember, the vote about what will happen to Anne is coming up, and I’ll need to take her there.^”

    Aria expected the Braixen to get paralyzed with fear at hearing that, that she’d become so inconsolable Cinder would have to carry her out. Instead, the lil’ fox nodded as firmly as she could, shaking her eyepatch around, before dashing over to her best friend one more time, and pulling her into one last hug.

    “N-no matter what happens, I’ll always be with you, A-Anne. I-I promise.”

    The Gardevoir didn’t know how she even managed to maintain her composure at these words, only that eventually it was just her and Anne in the room. Terrified, anxious, hopeful, that last emotion in particular trying to persevere as hard as it could despite the circumstances.

    Neither of them knew what to say, but they knew what they longed for in that dreadful moment. Without another word, Aria sat down beside Anne on the rough bedding and pulled her into the tightest side hug her feeble physical arms could manage—immediately returned. As hard as the little one tried to keep her emotions in check around other kids, it couldn’t last forever.

    And if there was anywhere in the world she felt secure enough to let them out, it was in the Gardevoir’s arms. “~I-I d-don’t wanna d-die...~”

    Aria wanted to scream at the injustices in the world, be they made by humanity or them, that had forced the child in her arms to say these words out loud. Maybe, in time, she would have the opportunity to shout at least three of them down—but that time wasn’t now. ‘Now’ deserved something else. “^I won’t let that happen, no matter what.^”

    The psychic forced herself to give off the same tingling, emotional warmth she did when they first embraced; her inner light snuffed in all the anxiety. It was nowhere near as intense as then, but it still helped the girl relax, if slightly, making her lean into the touch even further as she asked, “~Wh-what will happen to Ember?~”

    Another part of this cruel mystery, almost equally uncertain. Only almost, however, and if what Aria saw was any sign, things were better on that front than she thought. “^I don’t know for certain, but I doubt Cinder will let her be hurt again, be it directly or not.^”

    Anne nodded weakly into the psychic’s side, mulling through what she’d seen of her this evening. “~I-I think she m-means well. Now, at least. She was still really, really scary, but it really f-felt like she wanted the best for Ember, a-and I hope she really does.~”

    “^So do I. What’s best for her is what’s best for you as well—remaining here, together, in a family you’re loved in.^”

    Aria didn’t realize all the implications of her telepathic words until after she had sent them, making her flinch. On the other hand... it’s not like she disagreed with any of them. More than that, she felt that yearning in her grow stronger by the moment. This wasn’t the time nor the place to dig too deeply into it, though.

    Whether she would ever get the time for that... remained to be seen.

    Because the little one in her arms was doing just that, only shaking harder as a result. She didn’t put words to any of her thoughts, and neither did Aria. What could they even say that wouldn’t make what they were about to go through even harder for them both? The Gardevoir didn’t know, but there was something she could do that would make it just that bit easier.

    Deep breaths helped with the raging flames of panic, but were all but useless when dealing with the freezing grasp of a lingering fear. Nothing but true safety could get rid of the latter. But if they could at least rid themselves of as much of the former as they could, it would help a lot, too.

    Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. The subconscious impulse soon synchronized between them, ending up at a pace the Gardevoir found sluggish, and the human just slow enough to feel calm. Anne was here; hope wasn’t yet lost. Aria was here; things would be alright.

    It was time.

    “^We should be going,^” the Gardevoir whispered. “^Can you can stand up on your own, Anne?^”

    A moment of thought, a resigned headshake, “~I-I don’t know...~”

    “^I’ll help you, don’t worry. Will you need anything to leave?^”

    “~Sh-shoes. M-Maybe socks too, but we d-don’t have time for those.~”

    A part of Aria wanted to object, to reassure the girl that they had the time, but settled on following Anne’s best judgment. The mental image of ‘shoes’ was simultaneously decently close to the foot wraps that a fair few in their village used, and much, much sturdier.

    And—once the psychic had pulled them out of the rough pile of Anne’s clothes—stained with caked mud and a few droplets of dried blood. Miserable, but they didn’t have the time for anything better.

    As the girl slid her bare feet into them, wincing at how uncomfortable they felt without socks in the way, Aria psychiced the blanket into the air, and gently wrapped it around her. Safeguard did wonders for keeping the worst of the winter cold away, but she didn’t want Anne to be spared of just the absolute worst—she wanted her to feel comfortable and warm and loved and to flourish and—

    ...

    The sooner they departed, the better.

    Aria’s constant assistance provided Anne’s legs with enough strength to walk. Between aching, limping, and needing to get used to the motions again, that process remained slow—but it didn’t matter. Step by step, aided by a blanket and Safeguard, until they reached the end.

    Once they left the girl’s room and caught the attention of one of the injured that hadn’t fallen asleep yet, the Gardevoir added one more layer, one much more draining for her but necessary for the human. Thankfully, the onlookers only reacted to the wrapped biped beside Aria suddenly being erased from their perception with momentary confusion, and didn’t try digging deeper than that.

    Onward, into the oh-so-familiar darkness.

    After stepping out of the tent, Anne stopped to look around in awe, and Aria followed. She had no doubts that she really had spent the last few days in a village of mons by that point, but seeing it for herself was something entirely different. Much scarier than she thought it’d be, too.

    Almost all buildings had turned dark by then, which, combined with their primitiveness and the unceasing snowfall, only made them look decrepit. Beloved huts turned into harrowing ruins, if not to Anne’s conscious mind, then to her subconscious fear. In the distance, animalistic noises—speech to Aria, but only a source of more fear for the little one beside her. Unknown in meaning, unknown in source. Unknown in whether their owners would hurt her if they could.

    The thought made her shake much harder than the surrounding snow ever could. It wouldn’t let go either, forcing quickly freezing tears and psychically obscured sobs as it rattled around in her mind. She just wanted to be safe; why was that so impossible? Why did so many hate her enough to where they would rather toss her out to die? She had done nothing to hurt them!

    Others like her have, the planet-spanning abomination of law and steel and bigotry and conquest had, but not her! She was just a child! Such an important distinction, but... would it matter? To anyone?

    Aria could only watch, at a loss for words. She heard the questions crying out from the girl’s mind, but had no matter—how could she? It didn’t help, not her, not Anne. Very little could—but not nothing.

    “Honey?” the demonic voice grunted, making Anne yelp as Aria looked over her shoulder at her husband, barely making out the uncertain concern on his face.

    She beckoned him over with a nod of her head as she whispered over to the girl, wanting to take at least some of the choking fear away, “^It’s Garret, sweetie. You don’t have to talk with him if you don’t want to.^”

    The girl didn’t immediately react to the telepathic words, focusing instead on the Grimmsnarl as he caught up to them and gave her a timid wave. Aria would need a different way of disguising things if she ever wanted to cover anything from him, something closer to Orion’s innate gifts—and so she didn’t even try. “Hey, sweetie. I’m—I’m heading over to the council hearing with Anne.”

    The Gardevoir’s physical voice was so dry it was almost croaking. Nothing that could be helped at the moment, alas. Still, her husband noticed it clearly, leaning in to wrap his arms around her without disturbing the already unnerved human beside her. “Best of luck to you, honey. I talked with Max earlier today, if you’d wanna hear about that before you get there.”

    Aria was unsure how to respond without potentially exposing Anne to even more fear of never being accepted here. Considering how unbothered her husband was, it couldn’t be too bad... right? “How did it go?” she asked.

    “Quite well, if I may! He did bring up the discomfort, but was clear that it didn’t matter if it came down to the choice between personal feelings or Anne’s safety.”

    At least they had that reprieve. She sighed, “That’s—that’s good.”

    “Something to keep your hopes up! He mentioned Celia had visited him earlier that day to talk about this as well, and with how uncertain you felt about her, I thought I’d mention it.”

    If the Gardevoir had any idea how to feel about that knowledge, she would’ve reacted in a more lively way than the flattest nod of her life. Just another onto the massive pile of vague concerns in her mind. She’d find out what the Primarina Elder was planning soon enough, anyway.

    “How about you, Anne? How are you feeling?” the Grimmsnarl asked.

    Aria cursed herself for not making it clear to her husband that the little one would need some space—only to then sigh in relief at the girl responding normally, “~I-I’m scared...~”

    “I can only imagine. I know it’s really scary, but Aria’s got your back, and we’re all hoping for the best. Things are gonna be alright,” Garret reassured. He wasn’t the best at motivational speeches, but he made up for that in spades with physical affection. The likes of which were rather limited for Anne at the moment, but which she still wanted, even if silently.

    And after his wife covertly passed that detail over to him, he only saw it fit to do his best.

    Him crouching before Anne and opening his arms wide took her aback a bit, but not enough to not take him up on that offer moments later, walking into his front. Even at his gentlest, the affection was still rather firm—for the best, considering the situation. For a few moments, Anne leaned on Garret as he silently held her and pet her back. Words were difficult, especially at the moment, but he still deserved her gratitude. “~Th-thank you, M-Mr. Garret.~”

    “Of course, Anne.”

    The girl took her time backing up to her guardian once the Dark-type let go of her, wanting to feel that warmth for just a bit longer. Alas, it was the time they didn’t have, and she knew that full well, too. After catching her balance, Anne looked up and nodded at Aria, the latter getting the message to continue.

    “Take care, you two! I believe in you both!” the Grimmsnarl cheered.

    Before they got out of mindshot, though, the Gardevoir had one more thing to say to her husband. “^Garret, I... made a promise to her. That, if the worst comes to pass, we’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if it means uprooting ourselves and leaving altogether.^”

    Aria couldn’t feel the uncertainty in the Grimmsnarl’s mind, but she saw it. A tiny flinch, a moment of fear on his expression, hesitation before he spoke again. Nothing she could blame him for, nothing she could’ve blamed anyone for. “I... I hope you know what you’re doing, Aria.”

    And so did she.

    With Garret out of sight, the two could speed up again. As little as it was, and as lively as worry remained inside both of their minds, the briefest of chats with the demonic Fairy-type was still enough to get them going faster than before. The tiniest of embers of hope in their hearts, given a few flakes of kindling to keep it burning for just a few minutes, hours longer.

    The rest of their slow trek wasn’t anywhere near as interesting, thankfully. As more nocturnal inhabitants woke up and left their dens to stretch their limbs, they tried greeting the oddly walking Gardevoir—and only received silent nods in response.

    Even if they couldn’t see the being obviously walking beside her, they could still spot the tracks in the snow they left behind, psychically sense or even smell their fear. It wasn’t too difficult to put two and two together for most, and the rest were discouraged by her gloomy disposition.

    Something Aria desperately hoped would happen with Mikiri too after the tinkerer spotted them, only to be positively surprised.

    In all likelihood, the Mawile hadn’t even consciously noticed the sun having set, not with so much of her focus still on the two-wheeled contraption. Each time the Gardevoir got a glimpse, it had more and more clearly unrelated parts welded onto it, which included something poking through the spokes of the wheel this time.

    Mikiri’s mind was on the highest gear, but whether it was devoted to solving yet another mechanical obstacle or trying to come up with an idea of how to climb down from the raised seat without faceplanting in the snow, Aria didn’t know or care. For a moment, it looked like she was about to be forcibly pulled into the former once the Steel-type noticed her, making her brace herself for the worst.

    Instead, the Mawile had spotted the tracks beside her too, and cracked that little puzzle immediately. A rare moment of genuine surprise, an even rarer show of consideration—and at last, a replacement for bothering the psychic. Two thumbs up, support and affirmation. Copied straight from Orion.

    Thanks, Mikiri.

    As they neared the Elders’ tent, Aria felt the attention being placed on her intensify, making it harder and harder to keep Anne hidden. More and more onlookers, most of them aware of what was about to take place. Many uncertain, some friendly, some less so. A few little ones way past their bedtimes, eager to see what would happen.

    The auras of Blossom and Ember, trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible, had the psychic sigh, but not acknowledge them any further than that. There was no point to that, or time to waste.

    One last turn, the massive conical tent finally came into view. The many woven and carved decorations that adorned it were little more than visual noise in the dark, proud symbols that stood for nothing without sunlight to set them straight. Anne shuddered into Aria’s side at realizing that it was where they were headed, but didn’t comment on it beyond that.

    The sights spoke for themselves.

    Once the two were face to face with the entrance, a single step from the hall of judgements and rulings, they stopped. Aria wanted to turn and run, to not subject the girl beside her to a hearing that felt more and more doomed by the moment, to spare her that painful middle step between fleeting comfort and having to escape along with the Gardevoir’s family.

    Anne just wanted to be safe.

    After one more embrace, quick and wordless, they stepped in.

    Reassuringly, they weren’t the last to have made it there, either.

    The sunken firepit in the center provided some sorely needed light as it lit the gathered figures in the harshest way possible. Away from the entrance, the three Elders sat in a row, their gazes immediately leaping onto the Gardevoir.

    Blatant displeasure of the Breloom.

    Unchanging flatness of the Torkoal.

    Obscured attentiveness of the Primarina.

    Anne’s attention was focused almost entirely on the latter, unfamiliar to her creature. Reminded her of some sketches she’d seen in fantasy novels, but nothing even close to what she remembered seeing in a dex. Whether they were a village secret, or simply a mundane species from far away, the girl didn’t know—all she knew was that they were hurt.

    The scars on their face and arms, the lost fingers on their flipper. Torn pieces of the translucent fin at the top of their head, missing patches of beautiful, azure hair. It felt like some further things were missing, too, but Anne didn’t know enough about how the stranger ‘ought’ to have looked like to tell.

    Expression hidden behind their left flipper.

    “Finally!” Winnie shouted. “Celia asked you to bring it with you; where is—”

    Before Winnie could finish his complaint, Aria undid the spell that kept Anne hidden, startling everyone present to a various extent. The Breloom sneered at the girl; the Torkoal leaned her head in, and the Primarina... closed her eyes.

    “Very well. Please seat her beside yourself, Aria,” Ana instructed.

    The Gardevoir did just that, finally letting go of her constant support of the girl’s body. By the time Anne finished sitting down, she looked less like a human and more like a pile of cloth with a head sticking out of it—an exhausted head, worn by the strains of the day, by the cold, by fear. By what still awaited them all.

    “Aria? I have a request, if I may,” Celia asked. Hearing her silken voice was a rare enough occurrence that it caught the attention of everyone gathered, even the human for whom it was little more than a vaguely feminine, pretty noise.

    A shudder went through Aria’s horns, but she had no choice but to respond, “Yes, Elder Celia?”

    “I wish for Anne to remove her eye coverings for the duration of the proceedings.”

    There was no ambiguity for the Gardevoir to wriggle in—only a serious order for the girl to be left blind throughout it all, beyond what she would be already subject to. It was blatant cruelty that had no practical use to it.

    And based on the words that followed soon after, something told Aria that Celia was well aware. “It is—it is for the purpose of keeping sensitive information away from her.”

    For a split second, the stone mask from behind which the Primarina observed the world cracked into doubt, before correcting itself once more. Aria wanted to scream, but it would’ve been for naught. “^Anne?^” she whispered. “^An Elder is asking you to take your glasses off.^”

    The human girl was no less confused about the purpose of that, but could tell from her guardian’s tone that there was nothing either of them could do about it. Her little body shook even harder after the world had returned to an indistinct blur, the unknown not even her eyes could reveal growing that much more terrifying.

    “Thank you,” the Primarina said.

    Without any further words being exchanged, Anne could only try to make out the already present scouts, half-blind, and watch as the rest of them showed up, one by one.

    Magenta and violet of a ghost scarred by humanity.

    Metallic red of an unnerved tinkerer.

    White and blue of a once-exile.

    Blue and black of a scornful watcher.

    Brown and green of a cheerful mother.

    Metal blue and black of a protector of his ingroup.

    Purple and tan of a once-battler.

    Black and red of a kin-blind shadow of the woods.

    White and green of a devoted guardian.

    White and green of a...

    Aria stared at her brother as he stepped in, hoping to see confidence and reassurance. Instead, there was only quiet thoughtfulness, one that refused to show its hand, and guilt that only barely let him look his sister in the eyes.

    Once Marco sat down, the Gardevoir turned to the girl beside her one last time, passing her a simple, telepathic question, “^Do you want me to translate what’s being said?^”

    Anne chewed through the offer, already withdrawn and spaced out from all the dangerous-feeling strangers in the room. She knew she should’ve been brave enough for this, to face what was going on around her, to at least have the courage to hear what understandable objections some present might have had to her being here,

    But she couldn’t.

    It was just too terrifying a thought.

    “~N-n-no...~” she whimpered.

    “^Of course, sweetie. It’s all good, I’m here for you.^”

    The Gardevoir held the girl as close as she could, stroking her hair as she watched the Torkoal slowly pick herself up into a standing position and take a step forward. Then another, and third still, squinting eyes glancing around the room for the final count. And then; she spoke, voice heavy as a mountain,

    “Let us begin.”​


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 29: Thirteen

    • Chapter 29: Thirteen​


    “Let us begin.”​

    The three words echoed through the tent, forcing all that had heard them to let go of any external distractions for however long all this was going to take. No matter how derisive anyone here was of either the human or the need for this entire procedure, they knew how important this discussion would be.

    Because of the precedent.

    Because of the impact it would have on their future.

    Because of an innocent life being on the line.

    “Let me restate the purpose we are gathered here for: to discuss what we should do with Anne, the human in our midst, and vote on a specific plan of action. Does everyone present agree with that purpose,” Ana spoke in her flat, grinding voice, delivering more words nobody could deny, but which most flinched at. One after the other, all thirteen participants nodded, silently or otherwise. No room or reason to delay.

    “Perfect,” the Torkoal continued. “In that case, I ask for the events that led us here to be restated, so that everyone may have access to the same information.”

    Aria lifted her hand before the Torkoal was even done—the only one to do so. Her eyes swept around the room as she gathered words, trying to get a feel of how others felt about it. Many of them avoided looking at her, or at the injured child beside her.

    Don’t look away from the consequences, you cowards.

    “Proceed, Aria.”

    The Gardevoir’s arm shook as it caressed Anne’s side, the sudden silence only making her huddle closer to her guardian. Unfortunately, she had to stop that affection for just a moment as she slid forward to speak up, reaching to hold the girl’s hand instead, poking out of the blanket. With a deep breath, she recounted, “^Three days ago, Anne attempted to escape from her human family, after having been abused by them for years. It resulted in her suffering an accident in the nearby woods, and afterwards she was found, grievously injured, in the ravine east of our village. Afterwards, Sprout had rescued her, and moved her over to our clinic.^”

    A motion in the corner of Aria’s eye caught her attention. Celia looking not at her, not at Anne, but away and at the floor, still obscuring her mouth.

    “Sprout, can you vouch for Aria’s words?” the Torkoal asked.

    “Yep I can, Elder Ana.”

    “Proceed as you were.”

    “^After she woke up, I and others talked to her for the next few days. She is approximately the same mental age as Cadence, withdrawn, and enjoys drawing. Most crucially for our proceedings, however, she has no human family to come back to—none she would be safe with. In addition, she used to be long-time friends with Ember, but thanks to Cinder’s involvement, Ember didn’t remember that until Marco and Autumn helped her uncover her memories.^”

    Aria’s free hand shook, clenched into a fist, as she tried her hardest to maintain flat neutrality during her recollection.

    “Marco, can you vouch for Aria’s words?”

    An uncomfortably long moment of silence before the Gallade caught onto the words being said, eyes darting as if snapped out of deep thought. Then; he finally answered, “Yes, I can, Elder Ana.”

    “Proceed as you were.”

    “^I believe that was everything that needed to be said about Anne’s past for the time being, Elder Ana.^”

    A brief look from the Torkoal, discarded right away as she continued, “Very well. Let us proceed into the discussion of what should be done—”

    Immediately, several limbs raised up to offer their perspectives. Sprout, Lucere, Winnie, Ruby—Aria’s too, snapped upwards so quickly she didn’t even consciously realize it until afterwards. One sweep around the gathered scouts, another, Ana made her choice. “Proceed, Ruby.”

    The Weavile took a deep breath as she stepped forward, speaking up in a tense, but confident tone, “As far as I’m concerned, the answer is simple. We do the same thing we’d do with any other creature in that situation, and give her shelter.”

    It took only seconds for someone to speak out-of-order afterwards.

    “But we can’t!” Lucere cried. “Humans sure as hell aren’t like us; we wouldn’t be hiding from them if they were! Come on, why are we even arguing about any of this!? Humans have never ever accepted us as equals, and never will!”

    The Altaria underlined her thrust by pointing her cloudy wing in Anne’s general direction, the girl thankfully too blind to notice. Unfortunately, she still heard the spirited chirping that others perceived as speech, and could tell it was being said at her. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no choice but to shrink and look down at the floor like a scolded pet.

    It took Aria a lot of self control to not snap back at that, especially with how much of Lucere’s mind wasn’t even focused on anything going on here. Images of long past trauma, her own exile, the faces of the ones she once called family shifting into monstrous caricatures of Anne’s face. Unfortunate, but no less loathsome in the current situation.

    “Lucere, wait in li—”

    “And on what bloody authority do you claim that, Lucere?” Rose asked, cutting Ana’s scolding off with her own as her eyes glared at and through the Altaria.

    The Dragon-type recognized a challenge when she heard one, not even thinking about backing down. “Just look at what they did to Cypress! Both that awful ball thing and how much their brainwashed pets had hurt them! They’re shaking even now for frickin’ crying out loud; how could you think they’re anything but this monstrous—”

    “Enough...”

    “—thing that will hurt us the first chance they get!? That’s just the most naïve thing I’ve ever heard! What Rose, are you gonna claim that this pet human here would ever have more empathy for—”

    “Enough...”

    “—one of ours, something they all only try to control, than one of their own that our Cypress had messed up in self-defense—”

    “ENOUGH.”​

    The ghastly outburst echoed through the tent as the Altaria suddenly stared the Mismagius in the eye. Their Astonish was effective, but the ghost was well aware they had to speak or else she’d just continue rambling forever.

    “Cypress—”

    “Yes, my experience was mortifying,” the ghost continued, cutting Ana off. “Earlier today, a human trainer had attempted to capture me with one of their spherical contraptions. Afterwards, once I broke out, I attacked them, and their trained mon fought back in their name...”

    Everyone else being caught up to speed made them gasp at what they assumed to have been a far more innocuous accident on their scouting duty. Shock, concern, worry, all justified—none of those useful in the moment as long as they remained aimed at the Mismagius.

    “It left scars in my mind and my physical presence that I am unsure will ever fully heal. It made me fear the power the human contraptions possess at their worst…” Cypress kept going, floating back to their spot as the emotions in their voice waned by the word, revealing only more pain. “But the evil humanity is capable of, on the whole, is far from any singular human’s actions. None of us are defined by our kin. And for anyone here to imply that dear Anne should be judged under the criteria that they would find loathsome when aimed at them, is a peak of hypocrisy...”

    After getting their rebuke out, the Mismagius shrunk a bit in their seat. They tried to avoid wincing as their recent injury acted up—wincing too loudly, at least. Aria felt no less sorry for them than everyone else, but another emotion took up much of her mind instead—gratitude. She looked at the ghost as they finished recoiling from their pain, offering them a weak smile and an even weaker nod.

    Hopefully, she would feel similarly stupid for ever doubting others here.

    “In addition,” Cypress continued, “I would prefer ‘Mr.’ Cypress for the rest of this—”

    “This is insanity! These human spheres are tools of subjugation and mind control! How can we be sure Cypress’s and Rose’s memories are even believable? Why, this foul human’s presence is no doubt bringing back their influence over them! How are we to know that this thing being here isn’t making them both give in to their conditioning!?” Winnie ranted, his words mostly received with eye rolls and held-in groans, but... there was a kernel of truth to them.

    Indeed, they didn’t really know about how these human things worked, and whether they didn’t have a lingering component to them that was affecting the Mismagius in particular. It was immensely foolish to outright accuse them of that, but... what if?

    Regardless of how much their experiences had conditioned them, the two scouts that had been called into question sure weren’t happy about it. Cypress shook in place in a way that Anne would’ve recognized as a seizure if she could make it out.

    Rose, however, was one snap impulse from making everyone present—and the Breloom in particular—regret having a sense of smell. Before she could get wound up further, though, the Decidueye beside her stepped in, “At that point, why not doubt everyone, eh!? For fuck’s sake, why not doubt YOU, you old bastard!? How do YOU know you aren’t under some ancient psychic influence that will turn you against us all the moment something happens you disagree with!?”

    As opposed to Rose’s theoretical loss of temper, Sprout’s would at least only result in one person’s suffering. Regardless of whether he was unaware of how much he was tempting fate or considered himself above any consequences, Winnie cared little for the Grass-type’s words. “That’s preposterous!!! Why, if Orion heard all this, of his most trusted aide being accused of acting on ulterior motives, he would be outraged, just as outraged as he would be at the sight of this human in our midst! My thoughts are only for the best of our village and our people, ONLY!!!”

    As much as she preferred being a passive listener to the increasingly spirited exchange, Aria couldn’t let that one slide. Her head snapped towards the Breloom; the motion combined with her fierce expression taking Anne aback as the Gardevoir spoke, “^And theirs aren’t!? Need I remind you, Elder Winnie, that this is a home to us all, and all of us are trying to act in its best interest?^”

    The Gardevoir’s mental whisper only barely avoided escalating into full-on shouting, something that couldn’t be said for the Elder’s reply. “Bah! Obviously not, if you are willing to keep this affront to our safety here!?”

    That’s it, Aria’s heard enough; this deserved a rant of her own. The Torkoal obviously thought so as well, her head craned towards her fellow Elder as she was about to chide him—

    “Ahem.”​

    In an instant, Celia’s Disarming Voice had tempered everyone’s not-unearned desire to throw hands into mere disappointment, while drawing their attention back to her. The sudden wave of mental coolness it had brought with itself also shook Cypress out of the flashback his mind was siccing on him, letting him focus on the matter at hand.

    It only lasted a moment, but Aria still noticed the flash of emotion on the Primarina’s face. For just a split-second, her azure eyes drilled into Winnie’s side, the tiniest amount of mute fury leaking from behind her mask-like flipper—and then, an instant later, she was back to how she was before, waiting for Ana to continue.

    Before the Torkoal could do so, though, Aria heard another voice from much closer up, one much more scared at the sudden shift she had just felt, “~W-what just happened?~”

    As quiet as she had tried to be, many of the keen-eared scouts still heard the human girl clearly, making them look at her in unison. She couldn’t see many details, but she definitely saw that. It made her withdraw further; stare anywhere but at the many eyes judging her, silently hoping they would spare her in time. Whether they would do so; remained to be seen.

    “^One of the Elders calmed everyone down with Disarming Voice, sweetie,^” Aria explained with a telepathic whisper.

    It was appreciated, but Anne had no time to process it before more untranslated noises had reached her, slow and grinding, “I would advise everyone here to not make accusations of anyone else having been compromised.”

    Ana’s tone might’ve been only slightly more forced than normal, but that still represented a significant shift the ones present were well aware of. The Torkoal had nothing even resembling a ‘casual’ voice, but she sure had a ‘super serious’ voice, and it was what she had just used. “That aside, let me put a new point forward. The two extremes of flatly letting or not letting her stay are insufficient, considering the delicacy of this situation.”

    The Gardevoir might’ve rolled her eyes at the attempted watering down of Anne’s right to safety, but it still grabbed the interest of many others—much to her dismay.

    “Aria, you have mentioned she does not have a family to return to,” Ana continued. “That is highly unfortunate, but does not, by itself, preclude her being reintroduced to human society. Many of our little ones have been adopted over the years, and I assume that humanity has a social construct analogous to that. With that in mind, I find it hard to imagine there not being a way to return her to the human world through that alternative, adoption based method.”

    Ana had to pause for breath afterwards, deeply unused to speaking this much all at once. As she did, everyone else thought through her words, many with interest. Regrettably, Aria didn’t remember enough of her chat with Olive to say it with certainty. She was rather sure, though, that the old woman had raised—and dismissed—that exact point.

    Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to be the one to poke holes into Ana’s fence-sitting idea.

    “And what would that method be?” the Skuntank asked, cutting through to the root of the problem with just a few words. She stared deep into the Fire-type’s squinting eyes as she spoke, slicing through the veneer of neutrality and objectivity. It made Ana shiver, about to speak up before faltering.

    Because, indeed, the Torkoal had no answer—nobody did. It required the knowledge about human society that no mon present had, and which Anne likely didn’t have either. And even if she did, Ana wasn’t deluding herself about her giving them all the information which would replace her safety here with anything less.

    Aria flinched at seeing Lumi’s maw open. He was ready to butt right in with something she doubted anyone else wanted to hear—but then; he stopped himself. Instead, he looked over at the Gardevoir, at the human beside her, and laid down on the floor, eyes narrowed.

    Before the Torkoal could find her grounding again, Rose continued, “Are you gonna keep theorizin’ and fumblin’ your way through the human society, all that effort, just to come up with a way of tossing her?” The accusation in her words was clear, and if not for the rest of the discussion having already loosened Ana’s grip on the situation, she would’ve spoken up with a warning at least. For now, she had to let it slide.

    That didn’t mean that nobody else would end up picking up her rhetorical mantle, though.

    “What else are we to do, then?” Lariat asked. “Even if they’re not all evil, humans are still unlike us. She will never be one of us.”

    The Lucario’s words were delivered without Lucere’s or Winnie’s venom, earning everyone’s benefit of the doubt. And, without the bigotry of the aforementioned two, a point did remain. A dreadful point, a point that Aria dismissed entirely... but which deserved to be dismissed out loud. It wasn’t easy to keep her emotions in check after hearing that the innocent child beside her would never be thought of on equal terms with others. Still, she managed it—it was obviously true.

    It was time to use her hard-earned calmness for good. The Gardevoir spoke, “^I have spent much time with her, Lariat. For how vicious humanity is, and while us hiding from them is justified, humans as people aren’t as unlike us as they might appear.^” She underlined her point by applying some gentle psychic affection on top of Anne’s head. The magical touch could only do so much, but it still helped the little one remain calm at the growls echoing through the room as the psychic continued, “^They look different, they act different in their society, but to me it’s clear that these are differences of nurture, not nature, many of them skin-deep. Humans desire everything we do—security, love, comfort, kinship. There is nothing inherent to the human psyche that would make them incompatible with us as people.^”

    The Lucario wasn’t quite convinced. And with every vote mattering here, she kept going; kept comforting the girl beside her. “^I will not deny that she is unfamiliar with a lot of what we are and are capable of. She did express surprise when me and Autumn first spoke to her. I felt her shock at realizing we were people just like her, and that the same was true of others. She was wrong about these, but it wasn’t caused by hate, merely ignorance.^”

    Aria paused, briefly doubting whether it was a good idea to bring up the tangent she was about to—before going for it, anyway. It wouldn’t make her look good, but it was an unmistakable fact, and she knew it applied to others here besides just her. “^I know I can only speak for myself, but the experience of realizing other living beings beyond just my kin are people too isn’t alien to me. I imagine it’s not alien to anyone who grew up in an insular environment. For as large as it is, humanity is insular in a very similar way, especially in how it treats mons. But it’s not something we can’t act against.^”

    After letting go of Anne’s hand, Aria wrapped her entire arm around the girl, holding her tight.

    “^Tolerance isn’t an inherent goodness. We already have to teach it to many newcomers, be it bluntly or in more covert ways. If anything, Anne is ahead of the curve in that regard. She acknowledges her ignorance, and wants to learn more about us, about how to coexist here.^”

    The Gardevoir had no delusions that her explanation would only reach those that were already open to being persuaded. All she hoped for was that the said group was large enough to guarantee Anne’s safety once the vote came—both now, and for the rest of her life afterwards.

    As her words settled into gathered minds, a red pincer shot upright beside her. Aria was quite sure Ori hadn’t spoken up at all yet, making her nod towards him that much more hesitant. Worst-case scenario, she’d at least gauge the room some more, but that wasn’t much of a reprieve.

    “There is one difference between us and humans that goes much deeper than tolerance or its absence. We have access to moves, whereas they do not,” the Scizor brought up.

    “And that matters for what exactly?” Ruby snapped back, staring the Bug-type down. He wasn’t intimidated, already gathering words—only for the Weavile to continue. “If not having moves was a deal-breaker, we would’ve thrown our newly hatched out to die, and we’re obviously not doing that.”

    Ori rolled his eyes. “That is clearly a fallacious idea, Ruby.”

    “Sure doesn’t feel like it with how you’ve phrased it, Ori. But alright then—what about Max? What about others that, for whatever reason, can’t use their moves anymore, be it because of disability or age? Nobody cares about something trivial like that—nobody should, at least.”

    While the Weavile’s first point wasn’t taken seriously, the second one did get its hooks in people. Aria was glad that she wasn’t the one that would have to bring the Meowstic up, sliding her hand down for Anne to hold.

    “~Is that Weavile angry at me?~” Anne whispered, drawing more unwelcome attention to herself.

    This time at least, the onlookers caught onto Aria’s terse glare that awaited their overly curious eyes, pushing their gazes away. “^No, no she’s not, sweetie,^” the Gardevoir explained. “^She’s arguing in your favor right now.^”

    Anne’s relief at someone here standing up for her was palpable—as was the inward jab that shook her mind soon after. At having cast doubt on a mon because of their species, again. The Gardevoir’s affection pushed the girl away from that self-inflicted stress.

    In the meantime, Sprout picked up the discussion. “All that aside—she’s a defenseless child! Even if she was different from us, why’d it matter, eh!? Because, guess what, all of us are different, both from each other and from what many think of as ‘fine’.”

    The looks of uncertainty from around the room weren’t difficult to pick up on, including from Aria. Sprout’s wording wasn’t very clear—the elaboration that followed, though, was. “Lemme be as blunt as I have to be then, ha! Some of us, both in the village and in this very tent, are profoundly fucked up from our pasts. We aren’t all ‘fine’, we aren’t all ‘normal’; a difference like that makes a much larger impact than how someone looks. And yet, we don’t turn people away. Even if they have so much trauma in them it bleeds from their mouths.”

    Almost everyone present felt targeted, to some extent, by her words. It was a direct, arguably underhanded jab, enough to earn her more than a single glare from others. And yet, befitting her kin, it hit true, making them all think.

    Even if some still disagreed with it. “This is different, though,” the Luxray argued. “Our pasts or not, our kin or not, these differences don’t add up to larger than being a human. Come on, Sprout. Keeping a human here would be unlike anyone—anything earlier!”

    The Decidueye wasn’t convinced.

    “Yes Lumi, it would be different. Just how, before I got here, keeping a Decidueye here would’ve been unlike anyone that came before. New people join all tha time, some of them of kin so wild none of us here have heard of them!”

    Sprout might not have been pointing at the Primarina, but she very much thought about her.

    “These are obviously not the same!” the Luxray argued.

    “How, Lumi, pray tell?”

    “WE ARE GOING IN CIRCLES.”

    Ana’s raised voice cut the Luxray off before he could come up with another non-answer. Neither Lumi nor Sprout agreed with that claim, but knew better than to keep pushing a tangent like that—especially with more important topics looming on the horizon.

    “If anyone has a more salient point to raise, please do so,” Ana continued. An array of arms shot up at her call—Marco’s first of all. The Gallade had remained almost entirely quiet until now, uncharacteristic of him enough to draw the Fire-type’s attention. Not even his sister had noticed that, making her check up on how he felt.

    And gasping under her breath.

    “Go ahead, Marco.”

    After being prompted, the Fighting-type stood up and rolled his shoulders. His exhaustion was clear to see despite his best attempts to obscure it—could only do so much with most of his front still burned. It slowed him down, but only for a moment. Soon after, he began, “^As some of you may know, two days ago, a human from their nearby town ventured over in search of Anne.^”

    An uneven response. The Elders were well aware, as were a few of his fellow scouts, but far from all. The latter group leaned in further, eyes narrowed as the Gallade continued, “^Myself, Aria, and Lumi apprehended her before she, or her mon companions, could get too close to our village.^”

    “Do you vouch for that, Aria? Lumi?”

    The Gardevoir was unsure where her brother was taking that entire tangent, but didn’t like his pensive state one bit. Still, that much having happened was inarguable.

    “^Yes.^” / “Aye.”

    “Proceed as you were.”

    “^After interrogating her for a while, the human's group accompanied Lumi and Aria to the human town. There, they, with her help, acquired many items that either once belonged to Anne, or which would prove invaluable to her in case she stayed here. Once they were done, Aria erased the human’s and their companions’ memories of the incident.^”

    Lucere only barely kept herself from raising her voice at the insanity she just heard described, and Lariat was no better. It was only that final clarification that calmed them—and Winnie—back down, preventing any more outbursts.

    Aria remained silent, but increasingly tense as the fear of the worst-case scenario surged in her mind.

    “~I-is that Marco?~” Anne whispered. Her guardian was too focused to even respond to her words, only holding her hand even firmer. Same was true of most others.

    As absurd as the actions described already were, the Gallade clearly wasn’t done yet. “P-proceed, Marco,” Ana urged, not immune to the anxiety gripping the room.

    “^It appears that, because of the emotional intensity of their encounter, the memory removal wasn’t entirely effective. I investigated the situation just in case, and found the human, Olive, still remembering the events.^”

    Aria’s heart skipped a beat after another as she stared at her brother. Thankfully, her shock came off as being horrified at having failed in her duties, and not of her little secret having been revealed to an audience that would tear her to shreds for it.

    Aside from her, there was only one being in the room who realized the Gallade was lying. Before the Luxray would speak up, though, the Torkoal cut him off, her voice an inch away from fainting, “Did you erase their memories, then?”

    “^No, I did not.^”

    The gasps that went through the tent were well audible even outside of it. Eleven pairs of eyes stared at the upright psychic in shock, one in relief, and one in scared confusion.

    Marco knew it wouldn’t be long before that first group demanded answers, and so he continued before anyone could shout him down, “^I… considered it, for a moment. But, after having interacted with her, I am confident it is in our best interest she remains aware of us.^” He angled his body towards Rose, vaguely gesturing in her direction, “^I have no doubt of her dedication to keep the knowledge of us secret from humanity at large. She cares about Anne more than anything else, and if it takes helping a village of mons to give the girl a loving home, then that’s what she’ll do.^”

    Snarls from the Elders and scouts alike, disregarded for now.

    “^The human world had already cast a doubt on Olive because of what happened when Aria and Lumi accompanied her. She’s already had an opportunity to betray us all to save herself from consequences—and she hasn’t. I’ve talked to her. She’s hurt about us having tried to wipe her memory—and deservedly so. Even despite that, she remained dedicated to helping Anne, and us, out. I strongly believe her help will be vital. Even those of us who have extensively interacted with humanity remain very ignorant about many of its aspects. The talk I’ve had with her was very illuminating in that regard—and terrifying.^”

    Not even the Skuntank knew what he meant—once he continued, though, it became obvious. “^Let me elaborate. We’re all aware of the human contraptions, but they go far further than any of us, even Rose or Geiger, knew about. During Aria’s and Lumi’s excursion, the former was spotted despite her psychic disguise. Not by a human, but by one of their machines, a metal eye that can see through disguises and which our psychics can’t see.^”

    Not even his sister could resist gasping in shock at her disguise failing, especially in such a fashion. Her immediate thoughts mirrored those of her brother when this shocking reality was first revealed to him—how come nobody acted shocked? How did she not sense it? How many of her past interventions have been compromised by one of these ‘cameras’ seeing her even though the human using them didn’t?

    Just a few meters away, two of the Elders thought back, way back, to Orion’s many tales. He’d used very different words to describe it, but they were nigh-certain he was talking about the same contraption as Marco. It unnerved him enough to birth ideas of moving their village underground, just to avoid its stray gaze.

    “That is an immense breach of security, Marco. How do—”

    “^I’m not finished yet, Elder Ana.^”

    It was about to get so much worse.

    “Proceed, then,” the Torkoal muttered, aghast.

    “^You are correct, that is a breach of security, and if one of their cameras were to unknowingly see our village, it might end up spelling doom for us all,^” the Gallade reiterated. And then, he took the deepest breath of his life, and dropped the hammer, “^And it has already happened. Their flying contraptions we sometimes see overhead, they’ve been scanning the world with their ‘cameras’. They have spotted us among the trees from high in the clouds. We are visible there, on their maps, Olive showed it to me. And we have been for years.^”

    Panic.

    “This—THIS IS TREASON!” Winnie screeched, by far the loudest and the easiest to ignore in the room.

    “How come neither Geiger nor Rose have told us about this?” Lariat question, calm tone cracking into immense suspicion as his crimson eyes stared into the Skuntank—and she stared back, not appreciating it any.

    “We need to evacuate as soon as we can, to a location where we can avoid that threat,” Ana began, before being cut off—

    “Where!?” Rose shouted, cutting the Torkoal off once more as her reasonable-sounding point was challenged. Once more, Ana couldn’t answer, soon yielding under the Poison-type’s glare as the latter spoke up, no less unnerved by this development, “I wasn’t aware of none of that, Lariat. I s’pose it only makes sense with how fast their technology keeps growing. Did any of ya think humans remained as they are while we grew in ‘ere? We ain’t static, neither are they.”

    It was a sobering reminder for those that needed to hear it.

    A reminder of their existential threat not being some narrow force dedicated to bringing them down, but a massive, living thing in its own right. Ever-growing because of a combined ingenuity of billions. The realization made the Primarina’s eyes shoot wide open as they stared at the central firepit, unusually unfocused.

    “But if we panic and run without having a proper plan, how’ll we know that somethin’ like this won’t happen all over again!?” Rose argued. “They’ll keep changing, they’ll keep growin’, and even if Annie here stays with us, it won’t be for no good with her being separated from the rest of humanity. We can’t fight against something we don’t know nothing about, we can’t even hide. We need to know what’s goin’ on in the human world—and an informant we can trust, like that Olive, might just save our hides.”

    The Skuntank’s rant had reached a few of the gathered minds, though many more were still too choked by fear to think about anything but their immediate future.

    “She doesn’t even matter! If our village is compromised, we have to get out of here fast! We have to leave the girl behind, maybe with Ember so that they can stay together, leave that wanna-be human with them too—and get going, we don’t have any time to waste!” Lumi screeched, his panicking parody of a plan drawing uncertainty and anger alike from around the room—the latter from both of the psychic siblings.

    The mention of a ‘wanna-be human’ raised a few eyebrows, but it was lost in the noise.

    Anne whimpered at the Luxray gesturing in her general direction, catching half the room’s attention. She had no idea just how much of it was out of either sympathy or feeling sorry for her.

    “Lumi, if you sincerely think that plan to be sound, I would love to observe you trying to convince Cinder of its validity...” Cypress snickered.

    The Electric-type dismissed that point soon after, sweeping the Delphox into his panicking plan. “She can stay then if that’s what she wants so much!”

    “^I’m not leaving Anne alone, either,^” Aria muttered, stressing her grim words by holding the girl close to her side, the sudden motion startling Anne a bit. The Gardevoir tried making up for it with some psychic affection, but it could only do so much with how heavy the fear hung over her. Over them all.

    “^And neither am I.^” Marco followed, earning himself a sideways glance from his sister, unsure if he really meant what she thought he did. And then, a flashed smile and a nod later, it all became clear.

    “^Nor the rest of our family,^” Aria continued. “^I’ve talked with Geiger about this earlier—if we’re all spineless enough to leave Anne to die, then he’s leaving with us. And he definitely won’t be the only one to do so.^”

    “Damn right he won’t.” Sprout muttered, her affirmation lighting a fire in the Gardevoir’s soul. It made hope feel so much easier, even if fleetingly.

    Winnie tried screeching once more, “That’s blatant INTIMIDAT—”

    “At that point, everyone left behind will be a larger security hazard than a stray human aware of us...” Ruby muttered.

    Her point flew over a few heads—as shown, soon after, by the Altaria. “What do you mean, of course they won’t be! They wouldn’t betray us!”

    “No, Ruby is right,” Ana shuddered. “It is not about overt betrayal, it is about those left being either spotted by accident, or captured and interrogated by human forces.” Her voice was shallow, accompanied by what passed for her as hyperventilation.

    Before she even knew it, this entire session had turned from deciding a fate of a child, to steering the direction of their village as a whole. Something neither she, nor the other Elders, had ever felt equipped to handle.

    “What do you mean about it not being about betrayal, Elder Ana?” The Lucario asked, the grasp on the discussion having slipped from him.

    The Torkoal didn’t care for having to spell something so obvious to her out loud, but thought it appropriate if it would get everyone present on the same page—even those who usually only thought in terms of loyalty and close-knit kinship groups, and just extrapolated that thinking to their entire village. “None of this was ever about betrayal. I doubt even Anne would’ve ever betrayed us. The risk of letting her stay, in letting her go, isn’t about betrayal. It’s about us being compromised by accident, or out of hastiness.”

    And for those so concerned with loyalty, seeing three of their coworkers stand firmly in the human’s defense made an impact, too.

    As if Lumi’s idea hadn’t been discredited enough, Aria soon had another realization that only doomed it even further. “^Besides, removing Anne’s memories wouldn’t give us any more safety in that case than letting her keep them. Even if we all up and left tomorrow, we’d still leave many signs of our habitation here unless we tore it all into dust.^”

    The sheer paranoia gripping many of the gathered didn’t let them see a problem in that approach. Even they saw the obvious issue pointed right after, though, grimacing at the thought as the Gardevoir continued, “^Hundreds of living beings all heading in the same direction all at once would leave an obvious trail, too. But even if we made a clear getaway—can you imagine how disturbed the humans would be to find a ‘lost’ child after several days, with no idea what had happened despite having received medical help? Even a pitiful psychic would realize there was memory manipulation involved. And that's without even mentioning Ember suddenly resurfacing with her.^”

    Fine details of altering memories weren’t something anyone but Aria could argue about, leaving even those that really, really wanted her to shut up without verbal fuel.

    “^All that is the point I’ve been trying to get across,^” Marco spoke up again. “^If we panic and thoughtlessly run away from those dangers, we’ll only crash into new ones, sooner or later. Keeping Olive as our informant is a risk, yes, but it’s a risk that could save us from many, many more down the line if we take a measured approach.^”

    The Gallade summary once more left the room quiet; thought clear on the faces of many gathered. There wasn’t much difference between Ana’s eyes being closed and open, but those that knew her could tell they were the former. Ori turned similarly thoughtful, chewing through the uncomfortable dilemma.

    “If those... ‘cameras’ are really such a problem, can we not hide behind something?” Lariat proposed.

    “That’s right, we’ll just have to learn to hide better! I remember someone saying we could move underground; wouldn’t that help?” Lucere followed.

    Marco tried to maintain as much composure as could at their responses, only keeping himself from burying his face into his palm by the sheer force of will. Meanwhile, the Luxray continued, “That ‘small risk’ isn’t worth it. It’s still allying with humans; it’s a start of a slippery slope that is gonna end us all.”

    “He didn’t say to ally with all the humans, Lumi,” the Weavile sneered. “Just one human, whom we have good reason to already trust. Though... yes, it’s still a difficult thing to consider.”

    “It certainly does sound difficult, dear Ruby. There is the important distinction of it being a risk we can control, as opposed to a passive one we are on the whims of...”

    Winnie screeched, “ANY human interaction is an unacceptable risk, for Orion’s sake! By the gods, would he weep if he saw what all of you were doing with his legacy!”

    “Sure doubt that, you moldy thing. That aside—yeah, we need to know more about humans, all of us. Need I remind some of you that four of y’all couldn’t even open a single darn human bag on your own?” Sprout reminded, her callout downright quaint compared to the tension suffocating the air, forcing the weakest chuckle out of the Gardevoir.

    And then, soon after, a point of her own. “^We couldn’t even keep deceiving Anne for more than a few hours, despite her being as blind as she is right now. We know precariously little, it’s a miracle we’ve survived for as long as we have.^”

    With blood having returned to her still-pale face, Aria dared to offer Anne her hand again. She knew full well her confidence wouldn’t last, but appreciated its sudden burst all the same.

    “Damn right it is, hun. If anythin’, it’s also a testament to even that new camera risk not being as dire as we’re all frettin’—if they been knowing about us for years and still haven’t done anything, then it sure don’t sound like we have to act here and now. Get a plan, sure, but keep sane about it, too,” Rose reminded.

    Once she was done, the tent fell into tense silence once more. A low, grinding hum came from inside the Torkoal, letting everyone know she was about to speak again, and to not interrupt her. Or, at least, it let those aware of what it meant know that.

    “~What was everyone talking about...?~” Anne asked, her whispers more confused than they were scared for once, especially at Marco’s substantial presence in the discussion that had just happened.

    Aria shuddered as she tried to come up with words, ultimately settling on just being blunt, “^We talked about Olive, and how she could help us out.^”

    The almost-blind girl nodded weakly at the telepathic words; hard to process because of exhaustion and tension. It took a while for her to do so, but she eventually did—and gasped; everyone’s hearts skipping a beat at the sound, “~M-Mrs. Graham!?~”

    Anne didn’t have to see to know everyone was staring at her at the sudden noise. She shifted her gaze to the ground before her, avoiding even coming close to looking anyone in the eye.

    Once both she and the onlookers had calmed down, the Torkoal spoke once more, voice sunken, “Even if we were to thoroughly plan it out, having to relocate would cause an immense upheaval that could spell our doom.”

    Her words were true—as were the ones that followed.

    “^Upheaval, yes. One that could very well save our lives in the long term.^”

    With his closing statement provided, Marco finally sat down, failing to keep his winces in. The day had already been profoundly exhausting, physically and mentally. He wasn’t sure how much discussion he had left in himself. Feeling his sister’s radiant pride helped a lot in keeping him going, though.

    With the silence filling the room, the Torkoal called out again, “If anyone has another topic to raise, please do so.”

    This time, her call had no immediate results, the entire tent shrouded in uncertain fear over Marco’s revelation. As good as Aria felt moments earlier, her good spirits didn’t last when confronted with so much doubt, aimed every which way. At Marco, at her, at the friendly human that had alerted them to their ongoing demise. At the innocent child beside her.

    Thinking grew difficult, and she hoped the end was in sight. And so did Celia, quietly shuffling her cart-bound body forward as she prepared to speak up—only for Cypress’ raised tentacle to cut her off.

    “Yes, Cypress?”

    The ghost’s body hurt as he gathered words, not enjoying the tension in the room any more than anyone else. It was nourishment, yes, but it was a putrid sort of fear, enough of it to make him grow nauseous. He didn’t even need to be putting himself out here like this. It wasn’t directly related to Anne’s case, but... it still had implications for her, for them all.

    And who knew—maybe it would help convince someone, too.

    “My point does not concern dear Anne directly. I wish to draw our attention over to the dear Phantump presently staying at our clinic, Sage. Dear Anne here, along with others, were instrumental in letting dear Sage remember her past—and that she was once a human. Once she had rediscovered that fact, she expressed an interest in returning to her human home...”

    “Oh poor, poor dear! Does she know where to go?” Sprout asked, worried.

    As warm as her words were towards the lost Phantump, most others were much more concerned with the idea’s obvious risk. “I doubt that her being allowed to rejoin humanity, after having stayed here, is desirable,” the Scizor spelled out. “It poses a substantial security risk—”

    “Everythin’ we do does, Ori! Each soul that joins us here makes us a bigger, clearer target if you ain’t aware of that! We live in a world that doesn’t want us to; the worst of humanity would have our pelts for amusement if it ever got their hands on us! Are ya gonna use ‘risk’ as an excuse to keep a child here against her will for our benefit!?”

    The Decidueye’s outburst stirred a mix of emotions in the listeners. Obviously, nobody wanted to do such harm to someone they all saw as a child, and not as a threat.

    “That’s all nonsense—there’s no way a human would ever come back as a mon! I’m sure someone, maybe even this Anne girl, filled her mind with some confused fantasies!” Lumi roared. His point was blatantly incorrect, infuriatingly so.

    The Decidueye’s eye twitched as the Mismagius shook in place, his usually crooked smile almost entirely straightened into a scowl. The Luxray wasn’t just wrong; he was offensively wrong. And yet, his words paled compared to what the Breloom said soon after, “If that is truly the case, and a human infiltrated our village that way, that makes that ghost a spy!”

    Without skipping a beat, Sprout screeched, “SHE’S A DEAD CHILD FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

    Anne slunk to hide behind Aria, as everyone else stared, stunned. They didn’t need to be psychic to know acutely that if Winnie were to say a word more, the owl would do something they would both regret. And then she’d do it as many more times as she had quills in her wings.

    For once, that group included the Breloom too, making him stay quiet despite how much he wanted to shriek about intimidation. Knowing Sprout though, all she’d have responded to that claim with would’ve been ‘Good.’.

    As the room reeled after that unexpected and yet not-unearned burst, the Skuntank stepped forward once more. “Somethin’ I wanna stress—both the Sage girl and Anne here are humans, ain’t they? I know Sage no longer looks like one, sorry to hear, but now that she remembers her past she’s pretty much a human in a dif’rent body, right Cypress?”

    The Mismagius chewed on that idea for a moment or two, expression shifting in uncertainty. “Not exactly, but... the more human memories she regains, the closer she’ll be in personality to how she acted as a human, yes...”

    “Right. She don’t look like a human, but deep down she’s still a human, and keenly wants to go back to humanity, right? Can’t blame her, she’s a child with a family. Whereas Annie here doesn’t want that, even if she could come back to humans, her soul is here, right Aria?”

    Aria nodded weakly, too occupied by worry to go any further into it.

    “Right! T’me, where one’s mind and soul are matters hella more than how they look. Sage’s ain’t here, Anne’s is, ain’t that all that oughta matter?”

    It was a rather abstract point that many gathered either didn’t get, or didn’t want to get. Despite that, the Gardevoir still felt a few minds thinking through it once Rose scooted back in line, especially Ori and Lariat. She doubted it’d really settle in, but... she could still hope. All that she had left, really.

    “That is a point of consideration, Rose, but one which still leaves unanswered security concerns,” Ana argued. “Nobody else who leaves us does so with such a direct intent of joining humanity. Even absent any malice, I imagine her family to want to know what happened while she was away. We ought to act to ensure she does not compromise our safety.”

    The Torkoal had to catch her breath after barreling out so many words in a row, all of them sounding like a variation on a theme of rocks scraping against one another. Her even considering allowing something like that came as a surprise to some—but not all, especially not the scouts with children. The Fire-type being fond of little ones was such a badly kept secret many present would’ve been surprised to know she still vehemently denied it.

    “Malice is certainly absent from her... from what I sensed, she hasn’t felt comfortable in our midst unless interacting with our dear Anne. I doubt she’ll cling to our village in her memories...” Cypress reassured.

    “But the risk remains,” Torkoal summed up.

    “That it does...”

    “Excising the memories of her stay here sounds like a preferred option, then.”

    Aria hated the sound of that. Even beyond memory manipulation at this scale having grown disgusting for her over the past few days, doing so with someone so young brought its own risks. Fortunately, she wasn’t alone in disagreeing, Cypress soon continuing, “Alas, not. It was here where she remembered her past. To wipe her mind of what she had seen here would wrest those memories out of her grasp once more, would it not...?”

    The Gardevoir had no idea, and that by itself was enough to make it too risky to consider. “^I don’t know, and I’d rather not find out the hard way.^”

    Aria wasn’t as worried about the Phantump accidentally spilling something, especially with whoever she’d tell being unlikely to believe her, but... she couldn’t dismiss it entirely.

    Thankfully, there were more options beyond nothing and the unthinkable. “^If I may, I have an idea that might be well suited for Sage’s specific circumstances. Instead of removing the memories from her mind entirely, we could put a minor compulsion on her to discourage her from bringing them up. She would still remember them, but would find them boring, and she wouldn’t think about them often.^”

    Aria hoped her brother wouldn’t call her out on her bluff. What she’d just described was possible, but it wasn’t something she had any practice doing. It was more so her old clan’s forte, often deployed against any humans living nearby. Fortunately, the Gallade just nodded along, not thinking much of his sister’s doubts.

    “But she would still remember, there would still be a risk—” Ori argued.

    Before he could finish rehashing his earlier point, though, a flash of Sprout’s glare stopped him in his tracks as Marco reminded, “^We can’t avoid all risk short of burying ourselves in a pit and rotting away.^”

    Marco’s point drew glares, accurate as it was. Not the thing anyone here enjoyed thinking about, but it was their fate. They didn’t have the blessing of safety and certainty many humans did, and yet they had to keep going. Step by step, into the agonizing unknown of tomorrow.

    As Aria dwelled on her earlier thoughts, more non-emotional arguments against dabbling in memory manipulation kept coming to her, making her follow up on her brother’s words, “^Not even cutting those memories whole would’ve granted us that kind of safety, either. Just think about what had happened with Ember. Cinder had tried her absolute hardest to erase only very specific parts of her memories, it appeared like it worked... but after an entire year, we still managed to uncover them.^”

    The Scizor shuddered at the many flaws of a tool they had staked so much of their safety on being pointed out. It was easy to thoughtlessly point to the psychics when it came time to handle something dangerous or clean up after an incident. What was much harder, though, was coming up with an alternative.

    “^Taking away Sage’s or Anne’s memories wouldn’t just be cruel, it would almost certainly backfire,^” Aria explained. “^They’d know something had happened, they’d quickly figure out there’s a hole in their recollection they can’t retrieve anything out of. There wouldn’t even be any distraction, or deterrent of the tampered memories being traumatic, as in Ember’s case.^”

    Marco picked up from where his sister had left off, “^It’s hard to overstate just how stressful a realization like that is, too. Ember had only clued into something being wrong with her memory, and it immediately reduced her to a nervous wreck that could barely speak. I can only imagine how much worse it’d be in case of Sage or Anne, when it’s everything from a few, very important days.^”

    “^And even on a purely pragmatic level, their reactions would only draw attention to their memories having been tampered with. And as I’ve said earlier, any Psychic will able to figure that one out,^” Aria shuddered. Anne felt a sensation of a warm blanket being wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to the Gardevoir as she continued, “^The reason we’ve been using memory manipulation in the past is that it’s very effective with short, recent events. It’s very easy to make someone un-see something they glimpsed but weren’t meant to, and send them on their way. The more you have to remove, the more difficult and messier it gets. Past a certain point, all you’re doing is inflicting needless harm.^”

    The gentle, petting touch along the girl’s head made her body relax even as her mind remained on high alert and as Aria continued, “^We’re far past that point with both Anne and Sage, and I refuse to enact that kind of suffering.^”

    “^And so do I.^”

    There wasn’t a shred of doubt in the telepathic voices of either sibling.

    Aria still doubted whether it’d be enough, though. After all, not having access to a ‘merciful’ solution might’ve only encouraged the particularly paranoid to instead consider maintaining it with the blood of the innocents.

    Winnie wanted to shout at this blatant insubordination—he was the authority; how dare the scouts just disobey them like that? His eyes drilled into Aria’s, into Marco’s, but he kept himself from screeching for now—after all, he was still confident the rest of his council would back him up should it come down to it.

    And Aria worried about much the same.

    Before either their temper or their fear would bloom into something more drastic, though, one last voice interrupted the quiet, “I have one more point, regarding dear Anne...”

    The Torkoal blinked, snapping herself out of her daze before letting the ghost continue.

    “I worry about staying here posing a risk. Not to us, but to her. With how many of us think humans on the whole to be evil without redemption, great harm may come to her should anyone act on those thoughts...”

    Aria’s psychic embrace grew even tighter, making it downright hard to move for the girl. Cypress wasn’t wrong; it was a terrifying possibility which they’d never be able to eliminate, short of talking with every single villager one-on-one.

    She wasn’t the only one that felt a chill at the Mismagius’ words, only adding to her fear. Yes, there was a risk, but it paled compared to the certainty of further suffering should Anne return to the human world. A risk they’ve been fighting against for a while now, and which they wouldn’t stop trying to manage—but would it be enough to sway those that saw the alternative as guaranteed safety?

    Her breaths grew shallow as she tried to keep a grasp on herself, the tent falling into deep silence around her. For the first time in hours, nobody had anything left to add, finally passing the discussion back to the Elders.

    And there was one Elder in particular that wanted to put her plan into action. “If nobody wishes to broach a new subject, I would want to lead, and translate, a conversation between Anne and the Elders directly, on our own,” Celia explained, bringing confusion to those not present at the previous hearing, and uncertainty to the rest. Nobody, not even the other Elders, had any idea what she was planning.

    Aria was this close to refusing entirely, to snapping back against the cruel order and not letting the human girl leave her side. It was a doomed idea, and she was well aware, but... she could at least ask. “^What will the purpose of that discussion be?^”

    “That is for us Elders to know, not you—” Winnie began, before the Primarina cut him off.

    “Its purpose is for us three to ask Anne some personal questions. Nothing more, nothing less,” Celia explained, unflinching even as she stared straight into the Gardevoir. Her eyes were thoughtful, but Aria couldn’t sense any lies within them. No lies, no malice. Either the Primarina was even better at hiding her true intentions than they all thought, or she was speaking the truth.

    Something told Aria it was the former, but a hunch was all she had.

    “If there are no further questions, I want to ask you all to leave,” the Water-type continued. “It will not take long.”

    Anne flinched at seeing the blurs corresponding to the mons stand up and heading for the tent’s entrance, one after another. Was this it, was it all done? It couldn’t have been, right? “~Wh-what’s happening?~” she asked, nervous.

    “^The—the Elders want to talk to you directly, Anne, with nobody else present. I’ll be right outside, but I won’t let them hurt you.^”

    The possibility of being hurt didn’t calm the human down any. She remembered the Gardevoir telling her about this earlier, but that didn’t help with how scary it sounded. “~O-okay... What do they want from me?~”

    Aria shuddered as she stood up to leave, the last one to do so. Without her fellow scouts, the tent looked hungry, terrifying even for her. “^I don’t know,^” she whispered, exiting the tent soon after.

    As the Gardevoir made her leave, a gust of icy wind snuck its way in from the outside. It made Anne shudder, but it wasn’t all that big–certainly not big enough to have blown out the central firepit. She saw the white-blue blur—the one corresponding to the unknown ‘Elder’—do something right before the fire went out, but they probably just moved to get comfortable.

    Because what reasons would they have to just blow the fire out like that?

    Regardless of what exactly had happened, the tent was now shrouded in almost complete darkness. Anne kept anxiously touching her glasses just in case as she tried to discern anything around her. Nothing but smoldering cinders, nothing but the dim glow emanating from the holes in the Torkoal’s shell. Just barely enough to make out the silhouettes of the three mons in here with her.

    Three mons, each more than capable of killing her before she could react, and one her, blind and defenseless.

    Anne wanted to hide, she wanted to get out of here, to do all the pathetic things she did when Aria first revealed herself to her—anything but face the threats before her. But she knew she couldn’t. There wouldn’t be anyone that swooped in and suddenly brought her refuge, not this time.

    She only barely had the courage to keep looking in the Elders’ direction as the tent grew colder, so much colder. Without the mons, without the fire, without Aria’s intervention, whatever meager heat that had built up was draining through the walls fast, and the blanket she was wrapped up in could only do so much.

    Before she knew it, she was shaking in her seat as nothing kept happening. No words; no actions; no motion. Only her, the strangers, and the silent, freezing dark.

    And then, at last, a low, grinding sound. It came from the direction of the mons, but sounded so inanimate Anne didn’t believe it could be speech. Moments later, the Torkoal picked themselves up, and slowly approached her, glowing spots moving along with them.

    Anne remained frozen in fear as the mon drew near, bringing warmth with themselves. Not leaning into it was hard, but doing so was even scarier. Was she about to be scorched alive—

    “~She say, ‘come warm yourself’, Anne,~” a smooth, feminine voice spoke. It was awkward, accented so heavily she had a hard time making some words out—but it was clearly speaking in Unovan. Even with it, Anne didn’t dare move, the words making barely any sense.

    Thankfully, she didn’t have to. The Torkoal set themselves down beside her as the stranger continued, “~Can now put glass on, Anne.~”

    As pleasant as the voice was to the ear, it remained entirely flat as it spoke. Its instructions took a while to click. Anne’s hand shook as it lifted the damaged, slightly dirty specs to her eyes, transforming a featureless blur into physical space.

    One with a Torkoal laying down right beside her, exhaling tiny puffs of smoke with each breath, and two other mons in the distance—a cross Breloom, and the unknown, injured one. As the words kept coming, Anne realized that the latter mon was their source. “~My name, Celia. One next you, Ana. One next me, Winnie. We want question ask you.~”

    The names came in one ear and out the other; the girl’s mind focused entirely on what came afterwards. It matched what Aria had told her earlier, but... it couldn’t have been really it, right? Even if it wasn’t, though, the girl doubted she would’ve gained anything out of not cooperating. “~O-okay. Wh-what kind of question?~”

    Once Celia acknowledged her words, she spoke again, this time in what sounded like animal voices mixed with gibberish. Smooth, pleasant gibberish, but still entirely unknown in content—

    Any thoughts about what she’d just heard were cut off by another voice speaking up. She had no more of an idea what it meant, but it terrified her, especially with the Breloom it came from breaking out into a rant. Their stretchy arms moved every which way as they stared at her, fierce anger dripping from every gesture. One almost certainly aimed at her too, making it even harder to do anything but sit and stare in frozen horror.

    The Torkoal shifting themselves to put their body between the Grass-type and her helped a bit, though.

    Eventually, the deluge of angry sounds was finally cut off by the Fire-type muttering a short sentence in their grinding voice. What happened; Anne had no idea, and hoped that Celia would explain to her. “~No worth speak. ...Almost no. Question, one.~”

    Anne’s fate was in her own hands, and she could barely feel them.

    “~How we know you no run away, no tell other human, if stay?~”

    ...

    The girl squinted as she made sense of the words, unsure what the point of being asked that was. She had a decent grip on what the question was, but not why that one as opposed to any other. Still, her role here was to answer them, not to wonder on whether they made any sense—and the answer here was simple.

    “~Wh-why would I run away? I-if I stayed here, I wouldn’t have a-any other home. And if I told anyone, bad things would happen to this place, and I don’t want that, I don’t want to hurt Aria and Ember and everyone else...~”

    Thankfully, she wasn’t asked for an elaboration. The aquatic-looking mon simply nodded, and passed her words on, staring straight at the Torkoal as she spoke. The Breloom—Winnie?—grumbled something at hearing them, not helping Anne’s courage any, but nobody else reacted to it.

    “~Thank, Anne. Now, my question,~” Celia continued.

    Anne gave her a timid nod, taking as deep a breath as her young lungs were capable of.

    “~Know you how human world hurt here many?~”

    Far from everything about it, but... she did. The thought brought both sadness and further worry with it; the latter about being held accountable for how other humans have hurt the villagers. It wasn’t her fault, but... it was her kin’s sin.

    “~I-I do. I’ve heard of the League getting rid o-of places like these where—where many mons lived. I don’t want that to happen here, b-but I know it has in other places. M-my father used to watch League. I saw how badly the mons got hurt in it, I heard how awful he talked about mons, I-I know how many other people talked about mons, the bad things they said. I-I—~” Anne’s voice trailed off as she desperately tried to maintain a grip on her own emotions. She hesitated to keep going, to reveal that blemish on herself, but hoped, deep inside, that her honesty wouldn’t be punished. “~I used to believe in some of them, t-too. I don’t, I can’t anymore, n-not after knowing everyone here, but I did. A-and I’m really sorry for that.~”

    The girl was afraid to look at the rest of the tent as her answer was passed on. Predictably, more rambling from the Breloom, but nothing from the Torkoal. She expected to hear some emotion in Celia’s voice, anything, but... it remained entirely flat. No relief, no admonishment. Just choking, obscuring neutrality. “~Thank, Anne.~”

    A few moments of silence followed as the marine mon stared intently at the Fire-type, with Anne joining her soon after. Guess it was time for the question from her impromptu personal heater. Their sluggish, scraping words took a while to come together, and even once they did, they seemed to have taken their translator aback, if only for a second.

    “~Now, Ana question.~”

    Once more, an overlong moment of silence, Anne’s anxiety growing by the second—

    “~What Aria is to you?~”

    ...

    Anne blinked as she chewed through the simple, and yet so complex question. There were so many ways it could’ve been interpreted in, and there was no indication at all which of them she was supposed to take. Maybe she was just supposed to say them all?

    “~She...~”

    Even then, it was... difficult. So incredibly difficult, especially with the crushing weight of knowing that she had no idea how much more time she had left with the Gardevoir. The details would’ve been beyond the ability of something as simple as words to convey even on a good day, but...

    The gist of it was clear even now.

    “~She’s someone that cares for me. Someone that—that makes me feel safe. L-like nobody has ever since my g-grandma passed away. S-someone...~”

    Even if it remained so, so painful for her to admit to herself.

    “~...that I-I wish could be my mom.~”

    There was no stopping the tears that followed. All Anne could do was delay them until she’d finished speaking, but they took their toll all the same. She could tell Celia took her time to translate her response, and that her flat voice hitched a few times as she did so, but that aside, there was no reaction from the trio of mons.

    Fortunately, in the case of the Breloom, but for the other two... she didn’t know.

    And then, the marine Elder spoke in Unovan one last time, “~Thank, Anne. That is all.~”

    The girl flinched at the sudden light in her peripheral vision as she got a grip on herself. It was just the firepit getting lit once more. The Torkoal took one more moment admiring their handiwork, before heading back to the other two.

    Guess these really were just questions.

    “Thank you all for your cooperation. You may now return.”

    Before Celia could even finish her sentence, Aria was already back inside the tent, kneeling beside Anne. She didn’t even try to maintain her composure, eyes clenched shut as she held the girl tight just to the side of her chest horn. She heard it all; it was impossible not to have heard it all.

    She didn’t know what to say, and so she said nothing, comforting the girl as her tears returned as well. One by one, the other scouts made their way back into the tent, all of them having no choice but to pass by the tearful Gardevoir holding the human tight. Some wanted to offer their own comfort. Some could only look away.

    “Does anyone wish to say anything before we proceed to the vote?” Ana asked, voice even more somber than before.

    One ‘no’ after another called back in response to her words—until only one remained. The Torkoal waited for the Gardevoir to get the cue; wanted to let her process her emotions without being rushed along, but it soon became apparent that some prodding would be necessary. These weren’t the thoughts that could just be processed and squared away, and yet it was precisely what the procedure demanded.

    “Aria?” the Torkoal prodded.

    The Gardevoir couldn’t toss them, she didn’t want to toss them, but she had to at least delay them for just that bit longer. In the best-case scenario, for just a few more minutes. In the worst...

    “^N-n-no,^” she muttered, “^p-please, proceed.^”

    Letting go of Anne was the most excruciating thing Aria had done in her life, and yet she had to. Her psychic embrace held the girl tight, but she knew it might have faltered soon. “^I-it’s time for the vote, Anne.^”

    As the crying child nodded in affirmation, the Torkoal continued with the procedure, “Following our discussion, I believe it prudent for there to be three separate, independent votes.^”

    Twelve pairs of eyes drilled into the Torkoal, some in fear, some through tears.

    “The first vote would concern letting Anne remain with us indefinitely. The second vote would concern her ultimate fate should she be allowed to remain here, between fully joining the village and being expected to return to humanity one day. The third... would concern what is to be done with the ‘Olive’ human whom Marco allowed to keep her memories. If anyone has objections or different ideas, please raise them now.”

    Aria’s fist clenched at the thought of Anne’s safety being handled in such a piecemeal way, only barely keeping her words in her head before a different way to look at it hit her. If the tides of her fellow scouts would decree she be allowed to stay here indefinitely, they’d be able to argue against any future cruelty another day, and she’ll be safe for now at least—

    If.​

    Aria swept the room with her mind and eyes alike, and saw, felt, only uncertainty and fear. Even those she had trusted to do the right thing were suddenly much less sure than they once were. She was terrified.

    “No objections, then. Winnie, proceed.”

    The Gardevoir stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes as the Breloom reached into a small basket behind himself and pulled out a fistful of shriveled pieces of something pink. She already hated this part of the voting process, and the present circumstances made it even worse. Orion’s own idea, one of the few she never agreed with.

    “^A-Anne, close your eyes and hold them closed, o-okay? Th-this smoke stings bad,^” she instructed.

    Before the girl could ask what her guardian meant, Winnie dropped the dried Payapa into the hole at the top of the Torkoal’s shell. In moments, the fruit had turned into a cloud of bright, biting smoke, forcing almost everyone’s eyes closed as it cut off the siblings’ psychic auras. There were few sensations more uncomfortable than the suffocating claustrophobia of having one’s psychics be forced entirely back into their head, but that was the point.

    The Zoroark had stressed the point of anonymity with votes like these, and cutting off everyone’s sight and psychics was one way of easily enforcing it with him gone. Or rather, almost everyone’s. Someone had to count the votes, be that impartial observer, after all.

    A weak, high-pitched cough interrupted the misty silence, making Aria blindly feel around before holding the girl closer. “~I-it-cough-it hurts to breathe...~”

    Even telepathy felt almost impossible, forced to be channeled entirely through the Gardevoir’s limbs. Anne’s words hurt, for there was nothing her guardian could do to help—they all just had to endure it. “^Breathe through the blanket sweetie, it won’t be long, I promise.^”

    The makeshift filter helped a little, but it was just barely enough to let Anne stabilize her breathing—the end was in sight.

    “May we proceed.”

    “Y-yes-cough, Elder Ana.”

    The Gardevoir wasn’t any better at dealing with the biting smoke than the human, but she was more used to it. Her arms shook with stress and body in exhaustion as the Fire-type stepped forward, speaking up as loudly as she could, “The first vote, then. Should Anne, the human in our midst, be permitted to remain in our village indefinitely, until, at the very least, returning her to the human world in a safe way becomes possible.”

    Tears streaked Aria’s hand as it shot up, signaling a ‘for’ vote. Another of Orion’s ideas, taken in some unclear extent from humanity. Up meant ‘for’, touching the ground meant ‘against’, keeping the limb pulled back meant abstaining from answering.

    The tent remained in perfect silence as Ana gathered the votes, one after another. No words were permitted, no words were spoken. Muttered gasps, shaking, barely veiled anger—but no words. Until, at last, the vote was done.

    “Thank you.”

    Aria dragged her hand back, the limb aching at being held for so long. No answers, no reprieve until all votes were done to not skew the results. Another of oh-so-many elements of forced procedure the Zoroark had tried to put together in the latter years of his life, to put form and structure into what was obviously just a personally appointed clique.

    “The second vote. Should Anne, the human in our midst, be permitted to join our village as a regular citizen, with all rights and privileges that entails. If not, she will be expected to return to the human world once that becomes a safe possibility.”

    Once more, Aria’s arm shot up, and once more, barely any sound came from the rest of the tent. Many tiny rustles of fur shuffling against itself, of creaking joints, all familiar but not enough to match them to any gesture in particular. Turned so utterly terrifying.

    “Thank you.”

    Aria forgot how awful this cursed smoke made her feel every time, her balance growing weak. No voting sessions were ever this long in this tense and worn down a state. It didn’t feel like justice; it felt like an experiment in cruelty established without enough foresight, one of the many snap ideas that didn’t work out.

    “The third vote. Should Olive, the human living at the nearby human settlement, be allowed to keep her memories and awareness of Aria’s and Lumi’s intervention, and of our village, with an understanding that she would then help us by providing human-specific knowledge.”

    As perilous as the first two votes already felt, Aria had a hard time gathering even a shred of hope for the last one. It made logical sense—Marco had shown that clearly—but none of this was about rational argumentation. Of course it wasn’t, it could never be—it didn’t just concern Olive; it concerned them all.

    To ally with a human, to take their knowledge in, was both something much of the village considered unthinkable, but which would also force them all to act. Whether or not they wanted to, everyone present was now acutely aware of how much danger their home was in, the kind they could neither fight against nor hide from.

    To answer ‘yes’; was to admit that they couldn’t persist in spite of humanity through their sheer ingenuity forever. To answer ‘yes’; was to admit they had to leave this little space they had managed to carve out—not today, not tomorrow, but eventually. To answer ‘yes’; was to permit a human to indirectly steer their fate by helping them maneuver what to do next.

    To answer ‘yes’; was to admit defeat.

    To answer ‘no’; was to look away, to close one’s eyes, to pretend nothing was wrong. To blindly hope the threat would never manifest.

    Aria kept her hand up, and she was nigh-certain there weren’t more than a couple of others doing so with her. Of course this vote wouldn’t pass; the little hope she had wouldn’t let her believe that, and yet, she remained defiant, until the very end.

    For that was the only right thing to do.

    “Thank you.”

    Her hand fell down to her lap as she tried not to weep. She was doing the right thing; she knew that. She would fight for Anne, for Ember, for Sage, for Olive forever. If need be, she would wake her family, take everything they had with themselves, and leave this very night. If she had to, she would protect Olive personally, but—

    It hurt; it was so much, too much. She didn’t want to do any of that, to put herself in harm’s way. She just wanted to be safe. She just wanted them all to be safe. Her posture shriveled as she held the girl close; tense silence and the return of warmth having only sped up her exhaustion.

    Seconds passed as her mind wound itself up tighter. Her heart threatened to burst through her ribs and spill its contents onto everyone present, screech and strike at them for ever daring to consider taking Anne’s safety away—

    And then; at last, came the sentencing.

    “The results of the first vote. Nine votes ‘for’, one vote ‘against’, three votes abstaining. Vote passes.”​

    ...

    Wait...

    “The results of the second vote. Six votes ‘for’, two votes ‘against’, five votes abstaining. Vote passes.”​

    ...

    ...

    Is it...

    “The results of the third vote... S-seven votes ‘for’, six votes ‘against’. Vote passes. I hope you all know what you’re doing.”​

    And then; it was over.

    A cold gust went through the tent as the Torkoal pulled aside the smaller flap at the back. Within moments, the white smoke began to thin, making it easier and easier to breathe and see as the results hit everyone gathered, one after another.

    They were defeated, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t forge a new fate.

    Anne was safe.

    Anne was safe.

    Anne was safe.

    ANNE WAS SAFE. ​

    A howling cry left Aria as she pulled the child beside her into her arms. Unconscious, asleep, the vote had drained the girl of any ounce of strength she had left after everything she’d been subjected to today. But she didn’t have to be strong anymore. Aria didn’t have to be strong anymore.

    Anne was safe.

    The Gardevoir didn’t react as she felt her brother’s hand on her back, and then her friend’s wing. Tears and cries of release kept coming; her utterly exhausted mind kept letting out all the fear that had accumulated in it over the past few days.

    Anne was safe.

    No more fear, no more uncertainty, only a drained, brilliant love—

    “This is an OUTRAGE!” Winnie screeched, drawing glares of fury and shock alike. The Breloom was too drunk on his own anger to notice as he continued, “Ana, this has to be a mistake! Are you certain of the—”

    “ARE YOU CALLING MY OBJECTIVITY INTO QUESTION,” the Torkoal did the closest thing she could to shouting.

    “Yours and everyone else’s! This THING may have driven you all mad, but I won’t fall for its foul curse! Orion be my witness, I shall do what is right to keep us all safe, I SHALL—”

    BWOOOOOM! ​

    In an instant, Winnie was launched through the tent’s wall, tearing it in half. He tumbled once he’d landed on the snowy ground, sliding until hitting the brick wall of Holly’s pantry. Untold eyes drilled into him as he twitched; tried to spit out more words through his bruised, bleeding grimace,

    Before finally fainting; alive if broken.

    Once the dust cleared, everyone’s gaze bounced back the other way, silent and aghast—and only found the Primarina, still glaring at the spot her fellow Elder had just been Moonblasted out of.

    A moment passed in silence, another. Celia shuddered and blinked, before returning to her previous spot, not sparing the hole in the tent she’d just tore open even a fleeting glance. Instead, her gaze swept over everyone else, attentive as always, while her lips mouthed words for nobody to hear.

    Nobody knew how to react, but it was safe enough to say that the council proceedings were over.

    One by one, onlookers approached the aftermath, shock giving way to murmurs about what the hell just happened, both with Winnie, and for the Primarina to have done that. Among all the built-up curiosity outside, though, there was one fox in particular that wanted to know something else.

    Ember’s white shawl stood out among the crowd as she pushed through it, stumbling into the damaged tent with Anne’s name in her maw. Scouts moved aside for her, letting her stumble towards her friend before dropping onto her knees in exhaustion and joining Aria’s embrace. “I-i-is Anne s-safe?” she woofed, afraid and exhausted.

    The Gardevoir had no strength left for words, physical or mental alike, nodding in silence as she wept. It was all the Braixen needed for tearful joy to grip her too, make her huddle even closer to her human, hold her even tighter.

    Anne was safe, and they could all rest.

    As Ember dozed off beside her friend, on the very edge of unconsciousness, she felt them both be picked up and moved somewhere. Time lost all meaning as they were gently carried, and only when she was finally laid down on something soft did she pry her eyes open one more time.

    She saw her mom tucking her in, Anne beside her, and Mrs. Aria in a bed next to theirs,

    And fell asleep, safe at last.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Interlude VIII: Echoes

    • Interlude VIII: Echoes​


    again​

    A brackish puddle, barely shallow enough to breathe in, rests in golden sand. In all directions, only desert and scouring sun, forever. Echoes reverberate through the infinity, becoming just noise, sound—nothing.

    Too much of nothing.

    In the pond, filling it up, a captured soul. Torn from her people, her gods, her element. Above, a dark thing that is and isn’t her, a presence no younger than her and yet rediscovered every single day.

    they will hurt you​


    “~C’mon, work at it you thing!~”

    snap-crack!

    Another mistake, another fell strike of the ringleader’s whip.

    The Brionne let out a shrill cry as the cut joined the untold others on her arm. Simple fucking instruction, just had to make a spectacle with these bubbles for a while and everything would go smoothly, and yet the dumb thing just didn’t.

    A deep breath, a moment of focus, another go. She didn’t pay attention to the trickle of blood on her shoulder, devoting her entire self to her only remaining purpose. She shouldn’t have had as much control over them as she already had. It was a gift meant to only be granted by the Lady of Waves after her final evolution—and yet; she managed to replicate it from the few memories of her family singing in choir.

    Was this an offense? Was that why she was here, sentenced to a hell of someone else’s creation for stepping out of order—

    “~No slacking, again!~”

    snap-crack!

    What encouragement the biped couldn’t provide, the blue-yellow Electric-type beside them would make up for in abundance if she didn’t step up. Another attempt, even better. And again, and again, until the masters of these lands were satisfied with her efforts. She tried staring into their eyes many times.

    The almost-hairless bipeds offered her confusion, pity, disgust, scorn. She expected other beings to show something else, be something else, but they didn’t. Not like the tall ones, but not like her, either. They had someones, they were granted the bare minimum of protection from the system, they weren’t just a ‘thing’.

    At least it wasn’t them.


    won’t you learn​

    The puddle grows deeper, making it even harder to breathe. Louder, louder still, distant voices double up on themselves until they become deafening. Carried by an absence of air, an absence of wind, an absence of any relief.

    For there is only her, the suffocating mass above her, and the inescapable sun roasting her insides.

    nobody will ever understand you​


    “Sheesh, if I knew it was gonna be this bad, I woulda added a suspension to ease the bumps, or smaller wheels or something. Why’d she not say anything?” the Mawile asked, around the corner, as well-intentioned as ever despite the frustration clear in her words.

    It’d be one thing if she’d just botched her attempt at a cart or it broke, risking the safety of someone older than herself, but to have its recipient silently suffer while using it until she just dropped in the middle of the camp without saying a peep? How was anyone supposed to figure out what was wrong?

    “I do not know, Mikiri,” Ana answered. “I will ask once she comes to again.”

    The Mawile didn’t have a whole ton of scrap to tinker with quite yet, but she wasn’t keen on waiting until the Torkoal could force an explanation out of the beached Water-type. There were a few things she could try in the meantime, though—lowering the bedding and shrinking the wheels was her immediate idea.

    Just a few feet away from them, unseen, the Primarina tried not to scream from the latent pain in her back. The Blissey could easily take another look at her, she was well aware, but making a sound, any sound, felt impossible.

    It hurt. But she knew, deep inside, that for her to ever show it, to let anyone know, would only bring them more pain.


    you won’t ever be one of them​

    The black thing looms over her, binding her with its presence. The lost child shakes in the puddle under its glaring eye, splashes the precious water around, but there’s nothing she can do. All this will happen again and again, and they both know it.

    It is for the best.

    just stop​


    Faster, faster!

    The Popplio ran through the tall grass as swiftly as her flippers could carry her, but it would never be fast enough.

    She heard rustling and steps right behind her, too slow and too heavy to be anyone but these big things. Each motion made her little body scream in soreness, begging for her to stop. She hadn’t pushed herself like that in years; wasn’t allowed to push herself like that since that fateful day; didn’t have the space to.

    And yet, she had no other choice. It didn’t end up mattering—of course it didn’t.

    A few more steps, another bellowing shout, a whizzing sound—and the world around her disappeared in an instant. The next thing she remembered was being pushed even harder for days on end without any breaks, without food. Tall ones were even louder, even angrier, even more indiscriminate in their lashes.

    She didn’t understand.

    They had all broken out together by striking the flimsy metal thing that kept their shared cage shut at the same time. The big ones were away, asleep. They should’ve been able to get away into the night and never get found again—

    Unless...

    The Water-type looked over the other two beings that had taken part in her escape, now separated into their own, even tinier cages. In the one right beside hers, a bipedal mass of blue vines shook in place, their gaze fixed on something neither of them could see. She thought about reaching out to them, trying to catch their attention, but knew there was no point to that. They weren’t listening; they couldn’t understand her; all she’d achieve was annoying the tall ones further.

    Further away, a green Electric-type was devouring their portion without a care in the world. They took their time, licked their snout after they were done, and caught her staring in the distance. She begged for a wordless answer about whether they had done anything—and if so, what.

    They gave in moments later, and laid down where they stood, facing away from her.

    She knew.


    you are alone​

    Another blink, back to the debilitating echoes, the deafening silence. The black thing is there with her, beside her, outside of her, filling up all the space in between her contorted body.

    The voices come together into sounds, words, some even familiar. She knows them, but she doesn’t understand. With every strained breath, the dry ocean above her grows louder, busier, closer, even more violently incoherent.

    As she deserves.

    you are nothing​


    One moment, she raced through the currents, along with dozens of the blue-white fish that filled the seas surrounding their islands.

    The next, metal wire dug into her skin as it dragged them all through the chaotic waters.

    She flailed as hard as her body could manage; tried to cut through the reinforced net with the few techniques her elders had already passed to her. The wire didn’t move at her Pounds, ignored her Aqua Jets, and before any of the mightier denizens of the ocean could try striking against it, they saw brilliant sparks jump from loop to loop, leaving only painful numbing where they touched.

    A moment later, they coalesced into a Thunder Wave, paralyzing their bodies and snuffing their consciousness.

    The Popplio could barely breathe as the world shifted underneath her, so familiar and so wrong. Her gaze was stuck, staring through a wire net, through rusted bars, through miles of sea air—at the place she called home, fading further away by the moment. Around her, wet splashes, thudding of hard rubber on brine-corroded metal. Grunts of exertion, cries of pain, the latter thinning out with each crackling, zapping sound that signaled another soul being captured.

    Until only she remained.

    “~Cap’n! Ta hell’s that one—these mermaids you mention’d?~”

    “~Sure is! Bring out one of the black balls for it, and have Dolly give it another good shock before you toss it.~”

    “~What about the islands?~”

    “~What bloody about them? If they lived, they would’ve acted long bloody ago. Nobody’s watching, fecking insanity that ours haven’t gone in and taken it yet.~”

    Nothing but uneasy mumbling for a few moments after that, mumbling and whining of metal underneath the cowards’ footsteps.

    “~Bloody morons, you lot. It’s a fecking payday for us all, and if none of you can get it in your thick, hollow skulls, then I will. Dolly, let loose on this thing!~”

    The Thunder Shock made her writhe on the boat’s deck, body gripped by a paralyzing, red-hot pain it only barely remained awake in the face of.

    By the time the blissful release of her prison came, she could only beg for it to never end.


    this is your fate​

    She breathes, and the darkness reaches for her throat. Its touch is slimy, wet, ever familiar. It’s her own flippers, scars and all, caressing her shoulders and cradling her neck. They paralyze where they touch, making it impossible to resist, impossible to fight back.

    The thing that is and isn’t her screeches and holds as tight as it can. She thrashes in the silted, murky brine as her breath is strangled out of her, to the tune of her own voice.

    I TOLD YOU

    IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END LIKE THIS

    YOU SHOULD’VE LISTENED

    I’M NEVER WRONG

    EVERY DAY WILL BE THIS HELL

    NO MERCY

    NO REPRIEVE

    NOBODY WILL SAVE YOU

    YOU’RE NEVER RIGHT

    YOU ARE NOTHING​

    And yet, she has to fight.

    Her arms are so numb, so weak, but they strike back where they can. She shrieks at the tar-like smoke; it shrieks back. Each blind swing hurts herself even more, hurts it. Their struggle turns into one of endless attrition.

    THIS HELL WILL NEVER CHANGE

    “Y-you’re wrong.”​

    Why her?

    The Primarina thought idly to herself as she watched the bustle of their village through the entrance to the Elders’ tent. It was a position she doubted the utility of in general, but never in a thousand Moons would she have ever imagined that Orion would select her for that role. She’d arrived more recently than many others, her contributions were limited with so few words, and yet... the Zoroark chose her.

    From an outsider not just to their village but to this land as a whole, to this. Orion’s trust wasn’t isolated, but no matter how many compliments for her smarts she’d gotten, they never quite clicked right. Ultimately, she knew what she thought about her own inability didn’t matter.

    They trusted her, and she wouldn’t betray their trust.

    In a way, her destiny mirrored that of this entire camp. A ragtag, aimless band of three people who barely knew each other, stumbling upon a native and her son. Only a few years later, dozens of people living and thriving together, pooling their strengths and knowledge to accomplish what no soul could ever hope on its own.

    From barren dirt and wild grass, to burrows, tents and huts, to fields and bushes of nourishing bounty, to the vulnerable ones being cared for and the sick tended to.

    The oh-so-familiar, woofing voice interrupted her pondering, “Oh dear, is something wrong?”

    The Fairy-type shook her head and lifted herself up a bit. Her cart was just out of reach, but it could wait for a while longer. “There is not. Worry not, Orion.”

    “Oh, I’m gonna keep worrying about a friend, ha!” the Zoroark chuckled. “Is the title too much all of a sudden? Maybe I should scale back—”

    “No need to. I... appreciate your trust in me, Orion.”

    “Why wouldn’t I trust in one of my closest friends?”

    Tried as she could, the smile that followed refused to bulge even slightly. Still, she asked soon after, “I do wonder about one aspect of it, though.”

    “Go righty ahead! I mean it, I really hope we can work all the kinks out; it’ll be awesome!” Orion squealed.

    “Why Winnie?”

    The Zoroark blinked at her, stunned. His confusion lasted only for a moment before breaking into chipper, woofed laughter, not even trying to conceal his mawful of sharp teeth with a paw. It diffused the tension greatly, which was appreciated, but she couldn’t deny it feeling a bit... dismissive, too. “Oh, I know, I know, won’t deny he’s... a little rough around the edges right now, but I really mean it when I say that I can change him. He caught my eyes for... hehe, reasons after all! I really believe in him; he’s already improved a fair bit!”

    It took the Primarina her entire willpower to limit her reaction to only a modest roll of her eyes. If the Breloom really had changed, she hadn’t noticed it, despite knowing him for several years now. Out of everyone living in the village with them, she had a hard time coming up with someone less appropriate for such an important position. Who knew; maybe Orion really did see something in him that nobody else has.

    She wasn’t convinced. “It sounds risky to stake him being fit for this role on him changing.”

    “Mayyyyybe, but isn’t that what we’re all already doing, anyway?” the Zoroark smiled. “None of this would be here, none of us, if not for change and the willingness to embrace it. The only reason we’re here is because of the hope we’ll be able to grow it even further, to ensure the safety of even more, to be this beautiful gemstone of this land. And who knows, maybe if the world changes one day, if we won’t have to hide anymore... then maybe we could even have humans join in to help make it even bigger!”

    “That sounds... unlikely.”

    “Well, considering I’d turned from a runt that was more likely to starve than to ever bear offspring to this, I’ll stick with believing in change,” he teased. The Fairy-type kept her unamused look, only making him laugh even harder, “Oh come onnnnn~, you’re acting just like Ana! Yes, it’ll be harder, but I believe in it. In a way, we’re all striving to turn this cruel world into beauty, right? Well, you could say that’s just my way of doing it!”

    There was no arguing with him about that; she was well aware. Especially since she wasn’t sure how she’d even feasibly argue—he was entirely right; that was what they were fighting for. What they’ve already been succeeding at for years. Change was never easy,

    But it was always possible.


    ALL THAT MEANS NOTHING​

    A hateful shriek strikes her head like a rock, drawing blood and cracking bone. She grasps the nothingness shaped just like her and pushes herself off of the puddle’s bottom, toppling them both over. Underneath her is only more of herself, dark and loathing and hurting and afraid. It bites what remains of her right flipper, but she presses down on it.

    THE FOUR HATE YOU

    “You’re wrong.”​


    There.

    After swiping the loose leaves that had covered the sacred spot, the Primarina placed the tiny, makeshift candle on the patch of dirt and backed off a couple of paces. Nowhere near the splendor of the pearl-sanded beaches she remembered, but that didn’t matter.

    All she needed was a little light under the moonlight, a bit of the diligent ceremony, and faith.

    For a long while after she’d broken out of that place, she feared that her Lords and Ladies would never forgive her for abandoning her prayers. She never stopped trying to perform them, stilted and imperfect, but was doubtful they ever reached their destination. And that was just one of many fears, one of dozens of little harrowing thoughts that drilled into her how much of a mistake her entire existence was—

    With each passing year, with every new soul in this tiny commune, more and more of these fears gave up, one after the other. She had more support, more community, more love than they had durability, and that thought brought her solace.

    Moonlight mixed with the fading, orange glow as she drew small signs in the sand. The holy names of The Four, only meant to be seen by those who knew of their significance. She’d swipe them away as soon as she was done praying, but until then, they would be the tiny, constant reminders that her Lords and Ladies were there with her, no matter how far away from home she was.

    Words came soon after, little more than barely audible whispers. Nothing remained of her memories of the language she once spoke, forcing her to use Orion’s artificial one. That discrepancy, too, used to bring her grief—but just like others, it couldn’t withstand closer scrutiny. Prayer was prayer, after all, no matter how it was performed. The Four Themselves didn’t use the islands’ tongue either, it was but a mortal tool for communication.

    And in this different land, she just had to make do with a different tool.

    “Lord of Storms, let your courage inspire ours.”

    “Lady of Flowers, may we bask in your ever-shining joy.”

    “Lord of Trees, bless this village and its people to keep growing.”

    “Lady of Waves, be thine wisdom ours.”

    These weren’t Their lands, but she still felt Their love, and hoped her actions would only spread Their glory further.


    WORTHLESS WORTHLESS WORTHLESS WORTHLESS​

    The brackish water covers the darkness’ head as it stares at the Primarina with star-like eyes. They drill into her, singe her skin; it hurts like hell—a hell she is familiar with. All this has come many times, and all this will come again, and she knows exactly how the rest of this spar will go.

    With all the effort it can muster, the thing tries to topple her over, only knocking them both into the muddy pool. It follows up with another attack, teeth bared and trying to rend her into pieces.

    YOU CANNOT TRUST ANYONE

    “You’re wrong.”​


    Another show went by without a hitch, granting the Brionne the mercy of rest. A short, painful rest—but rest all the same. A bowl sat in the corner of her cage, licked clean after she’d gone through her usual portion—just enough to not starve. Above, the pale white eye of the Lords and Ladies, watching over their errant daughter.

    She remembered, years back, how she’d just go from one day to the next in the time it took her to blink. Not always, but... it used to happen, whereas it didn’t anymore.

    Maybe she’d just misremembered a few days as much longer than that. Her memories weren’t the best from that time, too muddled when it came to everything that wasn’t her rehearsed routine. Just one performance after another, practiced well enough for everyone to act their parts perfectly.

    With no time in between, no rest, no meals.

    She remembered knowing someone who didn’t exist anymore.

    Shaking that thought aside, the Water-type glanced over at the being approaching from the distant corner of their camp. Just a human like all the others, but... this one felt different. Spoke without harm, looked at her without hatred. They were together with all the other ones; they should’ve been hurting her, but… they weren’t.

    In the folds of their clothes, a few more pieces of fruit; left inconspicuously just inside the cage. They backed off right after, before squatting a few feet away. Every night for the past two Moons, without fail. “~Gonna eat it?~” they asked.

    Prompted by the voice, she picked up the treat into her scarred flippers, one missing most of its fingers. Manners and diligence were only the faintest memories by now; the meal devoured faster than she could swallow. She knew the Lord of Trees was staring at her with disappointment, maybe even anger at disrespecting nourishment to such an extent. Deep inside, the Primarina wanted to excuse herself, to bring up the obvious justifications for her miserable state, but... yhey didn’t matter.

    She was of the chosen people, even this far away from home. She should’ve represented their Lords and Ladies with pride, and not acted as entertainment for those savage, monstrous—no. Not all.

    “~Phoned the cops at Mistralton to give them a heads up. Maybe this time someone will come and investigate you, heh...~” the human chuckled painfully to themselves before sighing in defeat, “~I know nothing’ll come of it, but gotta keep trying, huh. Couldn’t find you in a dex, no way in hell these people just found you somewhere. Though... should that matter?~”

    They stared at their hands, illuminated only by the distant campfire and the brilliant moonlight above. Looked clean, didn’t feel so. Just a cleaning job for a circus; none of this should’ve been this hard, and yet… “~Lemme see if I can get you a blanket or something once we settle in a larger town. Doubt the fat fuck will appreciate it, but... have to try anyway, eh?~”

    Nothing was ever as clear as she once believed.


    IT WILL NEVER GET BETTER     ​

    The nobody that is also her wails on her, pulling her further down into the mud, into the soil, into the earth. Into death. She cries out in a song of her Lords and Ladies, in the words of the tongue of her new people, amidst the land of the alien people, in their love and hate. Each memory turns into its own bubble, brilliant and mighty, dissolving the black mist where they strike.

    NO ONE WILL EVER HELP YOU

    “You’re wrong!”​


    Another round of shows over—onto the road once more.

    The blizzard drained whatever life remained in the nondescript woodland surrounding the convoy. It also made it a serious pain in the ass to keep driving, especially with the truck’s tires being little more than shreds of rubber draped on rusted metal frames by now.

    This place was lacking in signage—though even if it hadn’t been, they sure as hell wouldn’t be finding any good places to stop in the middle of these backwoods. Just had to keep going until they made it to the interstate, then find the exit for Lillywood.

    Boss’ had scoped that place out a while back, should be just barely enough people to eke out a profit. Everyone else remained unconvinced, but whatever. Their circus of a circus, they got to decide. The moment this entire thing went tits-up, nobody had any delusions about getting the hell out as soon as possible—

    whine-squeeaaAALLL—

    The brakes shrieked, but the vehicle didn’t obey. One instant, a tighter turn on a slippery surface sent the truck balancing on just one side of its wheels, startling the driver into full awareness.

    The next, it was too late.

    CRASH!​

    Trees dismembered the metal chassis and spilled the gasoline onto the frozen dirt. The impact sent the box flying and the cages inside bashing against one another, before the latch holding them contained was sheared off. Seconds later, fire exploded around the wreckage as a second truck crashed into it, only adding to the mayhem.

    Whoever was still awake and alive knew they had to run.

    The Primarina could barely feel her back after the impact, but her voice hasn’t left her. It pierced the dark, overpowering the rusted padlock. She heard human shouts in the distance, calling after her—but they were much too late now. Everyone for themselves, were they to run for their own lives,

    Or finally use the opportunity to take another’s.

    She didn’t care, she couldn’t care. Reduced to a crawl, she crept with all the strength her body still had, pushed towards freedom through more pain than she thought possible. Through the cold, through the snow, through the thorny, dead shrubbery. Through the distant shouts, through the close howls, she didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, even with the certainty that only death awaited ahead.

    A gracious gift from the Lady of Waves.

    Soon enough, the cold drained the last of her sensations, leaving her body pushing on in pitch blackness through muscle memory alone. It would only get her a few miles more, at most, but her mind had no room left for that consideration. Her finest hour, the ultimate defiance of her captors, the ultimate sacrifice to the Lord of Storms. She expected a godless beast to do her in—but not the terrain.

    Before she knew it, the incline had her crashing, rolling forward with not even the Moon to show her what was happening. The darkness kept striking with sharpened stones and mighty boulders, opening cuts and dotting her with bruises. She had no control left of her body anymore; only begged for her demise to come soon.

    The ravine ahead answered.

    A drop, a grazing hit against rugged roots, and a crash. It cracked something inside her, forced her to shriek despite her weakness, left her alive and ripe for the wilderness to feast on. Immobile, defenseless, half-dead.

    The darkness didn’t move as she wept, as she shook, as the freezing silence slowly put her to her eternal slumber.

    Until, finally, came a low growl.

    Two teal pinpricks stared at her from the dark, sealing her fate. They grew louder as they approached, making her want to beg for mercy one last time,

    Instead, came only darkness.


    An eternity later, warmth. Comfort. Movement. Pain, muffled to all the extent possible.

    Voices.

    She barely had the strength to open her eyes, to take in the afterlife decreed for her. Too hazy to make out beyond swatches of color—black-red, gray-white. More growls, more squeaks, more words. They alternated, back and forth, before the higher-pitched one stopped, and the smaller, lighter blur moved towards her. “^Thank goodness, you’re awake!^”

    The weakest flinch of her life; noticed all the same. The black and red mass approached instead, their voice rougher and softer simultaneously, “Hey, hey, doncha worry. We got you, friend.” A furred, clawed hand cupped her cheek, stroking it gently as the voice continued, “Name’s Orion—feel free to wait with yours until you’ve recovered some, haha! Really glad I found you, you looked like a goner.”

    Her eyes demanded to be closed as she laid still in an overwhelmed, exhausted stillness. She had no idea what was going on, and yet...

    “Yes, yes, rest now. I’m glad you’re here. You’re finally safe, friend.”

    She did not doubt these words. Not then.

    Not ever.


    JUST DIE​

    Distant echoes turn into words of so many people—oh so familiar. Too much, much too much, both her and not-her-yet-still-her want to writhe and hide, want it to stop, but she knows she can’t. Each excess sound hurts her, but it hurts the black thing even more; love and respect melt through it.

    It tries to blot them all out, blot out the voices as it keeps drowning her in mud. With one last, fevered shriek, it wails at her from every direction, bruising her with its sheer malice—

    THERE IS ONLY ME

    HE’S GONE

    YOU WILL NEVER GET PEACE

    YOU WILL NEVER BE LOVED

    YOU WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTED

    THIS IS FOREVER

    YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, CELIA​

    The Primarina thrashes before suddenly stopping; and staring straight up into the blackness. They stare at each other, and the latter soon flails at the realization of what is coming. What has come every time, what will come every time. It fights it with the very core of its being.

    And each time, it loses.

    She leaps forward, pulling it into as tight an embrace as she is capable of. It shrieks, dissolving from outside in. Black smoke fades until white skin, azure scales, and teal hair reappear once more. Bruised, bleeding, hurting so much it can barely think.

    She can barely think.

    Beside her, a dark-furred, red-clawed paw cuts in through where the black fog once was, ready to be grasped. The other her thrashes at the sight, tries to squirm away, escape this help, but she doesn’t let go. She reaches out for the outstretched limb,

    “You’re wrong, but I love you.”​

    And grasps it.


    bang-bang-bang

    Celia gasped as she came to, blinking the last of her dream away. It should’ve been more familiar to her by now, and yet it never quite became so. Maybe it never would, maybe the same battle in her subconscious would return every single night for her to conquer yet again.

    Even if so, she didn’t fear—the Lord of Storms was on her side. Each time she got stronger and it weaker, each time she knew what to say to herself, shout at it, just that bit better.

    But that was a concern for the next night.

    After maneuvering half her body onto the cart, the Water-type crawled over to the entrance of her personal section of the Elders’ shared dwelling. She pushed the flap of the door aside, gave the Torkoal a bow, and started making her way past her and the piece of wavy scrap metal that served as her alarm bell.

    The Fire-type didn’t move, still staring into her room. Celia didn’t notice; today would be far too busy and important for any distractions. Even before the vote, she had to see how Max felt about all this, and get a feel for several other people—

    “What are you planning, Celia,” Ana spoke, not even looking over her shoulder, right as her fellow Elder was about to leave their shared tent. It froze the Primarina in place, facing the parted exit and all the light that spilled in through it, and away from the Torkoal.

    One moment passed, another. The impasse continued and threatened to never end, with the two Elders not even daring to glance at each other over their shoulders.

    And then, at last, Celia answered—

    “To do the right thing.”​

    —and left, into the ever beloved, ever changing, ever vast world outside.


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 30: Sunrise

    • Chapter 30: Sunrise​


    The first thing Anne heard was steps.

    Distant, muffled through layers upon layers of linen, Safeguard, and fluff. On dirt, on snow, on carpet which increasingly became more of the former two by mass with each passing day.

    Eventually, other sounds began to join in as well. Shuffling, clanks, thuds of wood against wood and flesh against flesh. Squeaks, growls, rattling of rock against itself in a way that most only perceived as intimidating noise but which was only meant as the warmest, most sincere greetings.

    Voices.

    She had no idea for how long she laid there, or even if she’d truly heard any of it. It was too vague to make much out of; could’ve been her mind playing tricks on her in hindsight. Ultimately, it didn’t matter either way—she was here, on something soft, surrounded by blissful warmth, and so, incredibly, exhausted. The more her consciousness returned, the more she wanted to recede further under the thin blanket, to stem the unwelcome tide of awareness that refused to let her rest in peace.

    It only worked for a few moments, and even that was an overly generous description. Eventually, her tired self had no choice but to finally give in, to face the new day and its—

    ...

    ...

    Wait.

    Anne came to with a gasp, eyes snapping open before immediately clenching shut at all the light that assaulted them for daring to do that. Removed from the numbing fog of unconsciousness, her mind soon snapped back to action, resuming from the last thing it remembered.

    The thirteen voices, loving and cruel and everything in between, debating on her fate.

    Was it over? Had she just dreamt up the vote, and it was still yet to happen? Was everyone preparing to toss her out of this sanctuary to fend for herself? Was she—was she safe? Even as Anne’s heart jumped to full intensity in response to these thoughts, her mind found itself unable to dive deeper into them right away.

    Not with the sight that awaited her once she’d finally paid attention to what she was looking at.

    A second bed, awkwardly placed a few feet from hers, at an angle. On it, Aria, asleep and disheveled. Anne didn’t think the Gardevoir hairdo would always remain as well composed as it was in the textbooks, but this was something else, something messier. Unkempt, shinier than before, shaking. Her expression was tense and narrowed, her breaths as rapid and anxious as Anne’s were just moments earlier. She was still asleep, and yet looked like she was panicking—

    “^She is exhausted, and struggling with a bad dream right now,^” a dry voice spoke, taking Anne aback; her gasp only barely kept in her throat. Before adrenaline could even finish grasping her body, she was already scanning around the room for the source of the sound. She could’ve sworn she’d heard it before, but who... oh.

    Despite having her glasses on, Anne couldn’t make out all the details of the Delphox sitting in the shaded corner. They looked... calm, as far as she could tell, but that in itself clarified woefully little. The more she stared at them, the more her recollection tingled, taking its sweet time pushing through the quickly solidifying concrete slab of traumatizing memories of the vote and the discussion that preceded it.

    Guess Ember’s mom sitting here and looking after her made some sense with what she’d said yesterday.

    Both because of her promise to look after her, and—as her senses soon pointed out to the girl—because of Ember being here, too. Anne could feel her shuffling behind her, slowly following her towards awareness. The Delphox being here made sense, but wasn’t any less unnerving because of that. And Cinder was well aware, leaning back against the wall to give the human as much space as she could.

    “~Y-you meant that about Mrs. Aria, r-right?~” Anne asked, prompting a slow nod in return, followed by a drawn-out sigh.

    The tension lingered in the air for a while longer; neither of the conscious minds were sure what to ask or tell the other. Thankfully, time was the one resource they both had in abundance, especially with the sun taking its time crawling from behind the horizon.

    Anne remained quiet, administering Ember some more affection to calm her—and herself—down. As serious and composed as the older vixen tried to remain throughout her duty, not even she could resist cracking the tiniest, most diligently hidden smile at seeing her daughter be treated with all the love she deserved.

    It would be a long while until she’d have anywhere near as much fondness for the little human as Ember had. All the good will in the world could only do so much to undo years of self-inflicted conditioning to hate Anne’s entire species, for reasons equally understandable and yet incorrect.

    Cinder wasn’t deluding herself about that, but knew she didn’t have to.

    Right now, all she had to do was keep the human safe, and liking her would, hopefully, come with time. And until then, some explanation wouldn’t hurt, “^I am here to look after you while you, and everyone else, settle in. Just in case someone... unhappy with the decision thinks about expressing that violently.^”

    That made sense, yes, as much as the very idea of a villager lashing out at her terrified her. With that bit of self-inflicted nightmare fuel, though, came a realization, one that made Anne’s eyes go wide. She asked, “~W-wait, does that mean that—that I’m safe here?~”

    A very firm, very exaggerated nod. “^The vote concerning your permanent stay here has indeed passed, yes. Winnie was none too happy with that decision, but now he’s left licking his wounds in a house arrest. It remains to be seen what will happen to him...^” Cinder explained. As she droned on, recounting the events that would remain burned into her memory forever, she noticed Anne grow increasingly unsure of what she was even talking about. Must’ve either dozed off before that entire embarrassment, or her memories had spared her from it all.

    “^Either way, not something for you to worry about, Anne,^” the vixen continued. ^”You’re safe, you’re set to remain here for good, and many here will do their best to ensure your safety, myself included.^”

    As shameful as needing to ‘ensure safety’ of an innocent child was, thinking about that wouldn’t do anyone any good. A fact that Anne’s mind was, unfortunately, unaware of.

    Worries refused to let go of her as she acknowledged the vixen’s words before looking at her guardian. As she took in the miserable sight once more, the one functional hand scritching Ember between her ears, she felt the fox stir behind her. She asked, unnerved, “~Wh-why is Mrs. Aria here?~”

    Cinder just sighed, her head slumping. “^We asked her to go home and get some proper rest once the vote was over, but... she refused. She clung to you, didn’t want to let go even after all the dust settled and the ceremony was over. We brought a bed here so that she could stay the night, thought it might just be some residual stress... but she kept waking up and checking on you, heart racing each time. Exhaustion finally knocked her out good just a couple hours ago, and she’s been like this since.^”

    Anne’s eyes grew wider with every word, the image being painted only providing further fuel for the flames of worry. “~I-i-is she gonna be alright?~”

    “Of course she—yaaaaawn—she will, Anne, mumble mumble...” the translated woofs muttered into Anne’s side. The sound finally snagged her attention away from her guardian and back to her friend, right arm immediately pulling her into the tightest hug the girl could manage as the fox continued, “Everything will be alright now, mumble mumble...”

    As much as Anne wanted to believe that assertion, she couldn’t.

    Despite Ember’s warm, loving comfort, despite Cinder’s cold, rational reassurance... she just couldn’t. Nothing was ever as simple as that, no problem as all-encompassing and anxiety inducing as what she and Aria and so many others had just been through ever got solved so easily or so definitively. If they even could get solved at all, that is.

    Something more still would happen, right? It had to; her mind refused to even consider an alternative option. No way this was over, no way she was actually safe, there was still more pain ahead of her, there must’ve been, there was no way there couldn’t be!

    Ember was too drowsy to make out anything concrete from the muck in her friend’s mind, and Cinder had woefully little idea of how to address it. Of course sating Anne’s worries would require more than this, but it wasn’t something she knew how to help with beyond what she’d already done—

    Before she could even try anything, though, the room’s entrance sliding open cut her off mid-thought.

    Anne had glimpsed the Blissey that had just walked into the room a few times, and already had much to thank her for. Such as for her current shirt being... modified to allow her cast arm to slip through the sleeve. In a destructive way, sure, but it was much better than nothing. Now that she thought about it, they—or someone else—would most likely have to do something similar with at least a couple of other shirts. This one was growing due for a wash, as was the human that wore it on the whole.

    Something to tackle later. Hopefully Ember and her better sense of smell doesn’t mind...

    “Your arm, please,” the Blissey requested. Anne complied right away, the healer glancing at Cinder with a brief, appreciative nod.

    As the human and the Braixen beside her looked away from the unsightly mess underneath the cast, the Normal-type thought to herself, arms working on autopilot. Rather hesitantly at that, a fact not missed by the girl, even as she tried her hardest not to pay attention.

    She was being healed, and that’s all that mattered. Couldn’t expect everyone to like her, after all. Both because of course not everyone would, and because of course some people would dislike her in particular...

    Unaware of the self-consciousness lashing out against its host beside her, the Blissey kept working—and paused with a sigh. No matter what her past experiences have been, the human would be staying here for the foreseeable future. Might as well take a moment to sort herself out while she had the opportunity. “So... you’re staying for good, is what I’ve heard being whispered around?” she asked.

    The elderly voice made Anne blink her mental murk away as she replayed the words in her head, nodding as firmly as she could without disturbing her injured limb. “Good, good,” the healer responded. “Hopefully, your arm will make a full recovery in not too long, but of course you never know with injuries this severe.”

    Not very reassuring, but neither was life. Still, Anne wanted to thank the... healer for her efforts, “~Y-yeah. Th-thank you for helping me out, M-Mrs... B-Blissey.~” She was nigh-certain she’d heard their name at some point during her stay so far, but couldn’t recall it for the life of her.

    “It’s ‘Esther’, and... you’re very welcome, Anne. I’m glad you’re staying; you’ve been nothing but sweet so far,” Esther corrected, the tiniest hint of a smile creeping onto her slightly wrinkled face as she redoubled her efforts. “Have to admit, wasn’t too... eager at the start when Sprout first brought you here. More than a bit of sorry history with humans on my end, used to work in one of their hospitals not too far from here.”

    Anne blinked at the Blissey’s words, unsure how to respond as the Normal-type continued, “Left me quite soured about you all over the years, was so glad to escape once I figured out a way to sneak out of that place. Though, in hindsight... sigh, the more I think about it, the more I realize it was just a couple doctors and nurses that made it all a pain. Two interactions a day with pieces of shit get dwarfed by dozens upon hundreds of pleasant ones with everyone else. Or I suppose, as pleasant as can be while being considered a mindless animal. Either way, it’s the former that really linger in the mind, and the latter you never reminisce about.”

    The Blissey chuckled to herself, giving the entire injury one last look before wrapping it in dressings and bandages again. “Suppose, if nothing else, a reminder to keep proportions like these in mind. For every awful day, there are plenty more fine ones, and the more we remember that, the more sane we’ll remain, eh?”

    While Cinder slumped in her seat with each passing word, Anne remained just as stunned as she’d been one moral lesson earlier. She was simultaneously glad that the Blissey got better, and very... confused about why it was her that the healer came clean to about all this. Guess her not hating humans anymore was good news, just the sort that probably would’ve been best kept inside her head... “~U-uh... yeah. That—that sounds... wise,~” Anne stammered, staring at the floor.

    Esther didn’t have to receive another intense dose of mild discomfort to realize her faux pas, pausing as she hurriedly tried to figure out what to do next. Apologizing was an option, but one that would’ve probably just made it all even more awkward—guess a change of topic would work? Yeah, let’s try that. “Yeah. Uhh... something I’ve been curious about for a while actually, if you could help me out with it... d-dear.” Esther changed the topic, her swerve neither subtle nor missed by Anne.

    Still, the human appreciated it, as did the Delphox in the corner. “~O-oh? How can I help, Mrs. Esther?~”

    After taking a while to mull through the best way of asking it, the Blissey went with the most direct question, speeding up her motions, “Would you know what day it is today?”

    Now that was something Anne didn’t expect to be asked; the wrench the question threw into her thoughts was very appreciated. It required a bit of thinking to figure out—she’d ran away and crashed on the night of twenty-ninth, before waking up an unknown amount of time later. She’d gone through traumatic events A, B, and C, with X days of coma in between A and B. How long did it all last? Just had to solve for X.

    “~How long did I sleep for b-before I first woke up here—i-if you’d know, Mrs. Esther...~” she whimpered.

    The Blissey tapped her foot on the carpeted floor as she thought back; the variable in Anne’s equation soon clarified. “Well, Sprout found you before sunrise a few days ago, then you slept that entire day, and woke up screaming the next morning if memory serves.”

    One day then, alright. Anne nodded at the clarification, crunching numbers in her mind before Ember chimed in, disheartened at what she’d just heard, “A-Anne woke up screaming? Oh no, w-was she scared?”

    “No sweetie, it wasn’t that. Her arm got roughed up something proper, and it needed more numbing than we expected, so it hurt like mad and woke her up,” the Blissey explained as she wrapped up her handiwork. The injured limb in question was now a bit less achy, a bit less dirty, and—hopefully—a bit closer to regaining full function.

    “O-oh, oh no... Anne, does it hurt a lot?” Ember asked as she slid up to her human; ears flat against her head. She finally dared to take another look at Anne’s left side, now that the healer was done with her unsightly task. “D-do you want me to not touch it?”

    “~Thirty, one, first—oh? Oh, d-don’t worry Ember, it actually doesn’t hurt l-like this. I don’t know how bad it’ll be if someone touches it, but it should be alright,~” Anne reassured. She wasn’t anywhere near as certain about her claim as she wished she was, but tried to not let that show. At least it wasn’t her dominant arm, thankfully. As she provided her friend with some more affection, she went back to finish her thought from earlier, finally arriving at a concrete date, “I-if I got it right, it should be February 2nd, 549 today, Mrs. Esther.”

    In truth, the girl didn’t know if the Blissey would even understand the date—but considering she explicitly asked about it, Anne hoped she would. As the healer stared wide-eyed at nothing in particular, finally realizing just how long it’d been since she first arrived here, the human had her own revelation. The date lit up a small lightbulb inside her mind—cloudy, weak, but still present despite the world’s best efforts to the contrary.

    Her birthday was just eight days away.

    The day meant little to her anymore, never did. Even back at her grandma’s place, they weren’t exactly swimming in money, so her birthdays were far from extravagant. Still, they always included at least one gift—most often a toy she’d spotted on one of the three channels their old TV could tune to and wouldn’t stop talking about—a small cake with her name on it, delivered all the way over from Mistralton, and a hearty snack for Ember. Nobody knew when the Fennekin’s birthday was, so her grandma figured she might as well make it one day of celebration for them both.

    Not much, but lovely enough to sting her eyes a bit as she thought back to it.

    And then once... once grandma Lisa was gone, and she was back with her parents, the day almost stopped having any meaning whatsoever. Not even Anne herself really acknowledged it anymore. It was only Mrs. Graham that ever made an effort to celebrate the day, gifting her some fancier art supplies than spare notebook pages and store-brand pencils.

    Would she let anyone know about this? A part of her wanted to, the inward impulse of wanting that happiness, that celebration, these—these gifts too, as selfish as that was to admit. But… the people here had already done so much for her. Patched her up, looked after her, and argued for her safety despite her not belonging here.

    Another glance at Aria. Still squirming in her sleep, still anxious.

    They had saved her life! The last thing she wanted to do was to keep asking for more, to be even more of a burden to everyone here. To force everyone here to do even more for her—squeeze!

    The tight, blissfully warm embrace made it difficult to focus—as intended. “^B-but we’d all love to help you out Anne, a-and get you something for your birthday!^” Ember squealed, her excited, telepathic words only making Anne wince.

    It was a sweet gesture, but utterly mismatched compared to the human’s sour, dour mental state, eager to use the fox’s goodwill to bash itself for all kinds of perceived slights. The fact wasn’t lost on the vixen, making her hold her friend even tighter, even firmer.

    As the two girls fought the sludge sloshing inside Anne’s skull, Esther continued, blissfully oblivious to everything going beside her, “Hmmm. How old are you again, Anne?”

    A lifeboat away from the mental storm, a merciful distraction. “~U-uh... I-I’m ten, almost eleven.~”

    “Huh! Well, considering your history, I suppose it makes sense for you to be smaller than I expected. Thought you were about nine or so. Malnourishment doesn’t help either. Eat well, and hopefully you’ll regain the missing height as you grow—”

    The loud steps approaching from the room beside theirs caught Cinder’s attention. They almost made her get up to apprehend whoever was about to walk in on them—before she sighed and leaned against the wall once more. Even if she wanted to stop the approaching force of nature, she sincerely doubted she’d been able to.

    rust-RUSTLE

    “GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINES!” Holly shouted, waking all the souls still trying to get some rest in the healers’ tent. “Gotta celebrate the news in some proper way! There ya go, girls, enjoy your meals!”

    It took both Anne and Ember a while to act, even after the bundle of delicious-smelling food was offered to them. The buttery, sweet scent that the Azumarill had brought with herself helped in melting through the deadlock their minds were stuck in, though. Taking care not to tilt it too much, Anne grabbed her portion, setting it on the bedding beside herself. “~Thank you, M-Mrs. Holly—~”

    “Doncha fret it, Annie! Now that I know I got you here in walking range for good, doncha doubt I’ll do all I can to get something more than skin on those bones of yours! Can’t have ya starving under my watch, haha!” Holly giggled. As Anne smiled to herself at the gesture, she spotted Aria anxiously looking around the room, startled into a sitting position by Holly’s arrival. The Azumarill didn’t notice, though, continuing, “Aaaaaand, if ya got any of your fancy-schmancy human recipes in that noggin of yours, I hope ya gonna share! I’ve already improved a bunch of them, been itching to get my paws on more!”

    A lack of response, or even any attention, finally clued Holly to what was going on, the scene that awaited behind her making her chuckle, “Good grief Aria, you look like you could use a pick-me-up too! Maybe I need to grab some of that juice I made for Annie here a couple days back and pour you a portion or seven, eh?”

    Despite Holly’s best efforts, the Gardevoir didn’t respond, the dazed exhaustion clear on her features. The Azumarill wasn’t the one to give up on cheering someone up, but was well aware that her efforts would be better spent elsewhere—such as on making due on her offer while Aria came to. “Don’t have to not tell me twice!” Holly chuckled. “Hopefully won’t take too long to get everythin’ ready. Take care, y’all!”

    “Th-thank you, Mrs. Holly!” Anne added, wanting to give the Azumarill her courtesy, no matter how worried she was. Her timid wave returned right away as the cook took her leave. With the cook gone, Anne’s gaze swept around the room once more, finding the Blissey healer absent as well, to her surprise. Must’ve left when everyone was distracted by Holly. She thought little of it, though, not with the entirety of her focus now placed on the Gardevoir. “~M-Mrs. Aria?~”

    The Gardevoir’s small gasp startled the two girls, their surprise at such a reaction soon turning into further concern. Thankfully, it was enough to snap the psychic back to reality with a few confused blinks, dazzled shock soon giving way to relief at seeing Anne here with her. Safe, at last.

    “^G-good morning, Anne. How—how are you feeling, sweetie?^” Aria asked, giving the human girl the most confident smile she could muster—pitiful enough to worry Anne and Ember even further—before slowly sitting down beside Anne, shaking arms weakly wrapping around her.

    The gesture was as magical and pleasant as she’d grown to expect from the Gardevoir, but... there was something missing. It’s as if much of her warmth was gone, replaced with a pretense of one, a fake comfort that couldn’t even sustain itself, let alone the fearful girl beside her. Anne responded, concerned, “~I-I’m doing okay, Mrs. Aria. A-are you okay, though? You look tired.~”

    “^No no, I’m—I’m doing fine. B-but are you sure you are, Anne? R-really alright?^” Aria’s voice wavered in a way Anne—or Ember for that matter—hadn’t ever heard from her before, the sound putting them on edge.

    The human girl was especially unsure of what to do. She’d just answered her; both of them knew on a logical level that she was safe now with the vote being over. “~Yeah! Still need to calm down a-a bit, but I’m really alright. The vote passed, right?~”

    “^Yes, it did,^” Cinder confirmed, her words firm and immediate. They provided some well-needed reassurance to Anne while startling Aria even further. The human girl almost gasped at how tight she was held in response to the Delphox’s voice. How shakily.

    The Gardevoir insisted, “^B-but is it really over? N-no way it is, we—we have to still be on the lookout...^” Her words didn’t even feel like they were aimed at anyone but herself, muttered and disjointed. It was all as confusing as it was disheartening for Anne—it felt like Aria couldn’t hear her, like something just wasn’t clicking, so unlike her.

    Before her worries could grow further, two voices spoke up—one concerned, “M-Mrs. Aria, are you really alright?” and one much more to the point. “^Aria. Please, you’re not doing well right now. You need to take some time off from all this—^”

    The moment the Delphox stood up, there was an immediate shift in the room’s atmosphere. Anne might’ve only wished she was psychic, but even she noticed the air turning from uneasy to being an inch from violently exploding from all the tension—and much of it was coming from the Gardevoir she was so worried about. She had no idea what to say; she wasn’t sure she even wanted Aria to be here with her, not like this.

    With a deep breath, Cinder realized what was going on and backed off, sitting back down. Not something she knew how to handle, especially not in a situation like this, with children in the room.

    Before the pressure could grow even further, though, everyone’s eyes snapped over to the entrance at the sound of linen being slid aside.

    “Honey?” Garret asked, his words welcomed by everyone—especially their intended recipient. Anne felt the Gardevoir’s embrace loosen just a bit as the Grimmsnarl approached, eyes going wider and expression slacking a bit more. “Honey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

    As he came to a stop beside the two beds, the calm taps of much shorter steps soon followed, before speeding up at sensing the emotional mess everyone was stewing in. Autumn walked in moments after and levitated herself onto the bed Aria had slept on minutes earlier and taking a seat along its edge. “Aria, are you here with me?” she asked, her voice raised.

    Being surrounded by faces she knew she could trust helped a lot, but, to Aria’s dismay, solved nothing by itself. Her heart still pounded, her mind still raced with thoughts it was barely cognizant of. She usually held a much better grip on herself than this, but right now, it all felt... uncontrollable. “^It—it feels like something’s gonna happen again. Like—like it’s still not over, like I’m still back in that tent. I-it just won’t go away. I don’t know h-how to make it stop.^”

    The realization of just how much of a mess her mind was didn’t help the Gardevoir much in remaining calm, but at least it let her loved ones know what to do to help her.

    Autumn wasted no time before catching her attention with a bit of applied psychics and speaking up, “I get it, sweetie. You put so much of yourself into this entire ordeal, into dealing with the Elders, into keeping us all, and especially Anne, safe. I can only imagine how hard it is to leave that headspace afterwards. It’s really over though, I promise. You deserve the biggest break in the world from having to worry about it all, about Anne.”

    As the human in question kept looking at Aria in concern, the Indeedee’s words only brought the Gardevoir more fear. Her hold re-tightened immediately, as she mumbled, “^Wh-what if s-someone steps out of line? What if—what if the Elders come up with something else, and—^”

    Before the Gardevoir could wind herself up any further, her words and embrace alike were swiftly cut off by her husband leaning in to pull her into the firmest hug his furry body could manage, individual hairs deftly prying his wife away from the little human. “Shhhhhh... It’s really over honey, please, listen to us...”

    Cinder waited until Aria stopped shaking in her husband’s embrace before chiming in once more, “^I’ll be Anne’s ward for the next while. It will be both in your and in her best interest if you take the time to clear your head after everything you’ve been through, Aria. She will be alright.^”

    Anne was still overwhelmed at everything going on around her, but realized this was her time to speak up and help her guardian out, to make up for all the care she’d been given. “~Yeah! I-I’ll be alright, Mrs. Aria, promise!~” she reassured, voice as confident as she could manage.

    Even all the words combined couldn’t do miracles, but combined with the affection from her husband, they were just about sufficient to break through much of the Gardevoir’s present wound-up anxiety. With each passing moment, her shaking waned before culminating in a weak nod. Less at any single claim in specific, and more so at the overall intent of everyone gathered.

    “Let’s get you some more rest, honey. I love you,” the Grimmsnarl whispered, as somber as it was possible for sounds being snarled and growled out to be.

    And his wife noticed. As he made his way around the second bed and towards the room’s entrance, Aria’s arms finally reached around him, returning his affection with her own utterly exhausted embrace. “^L-love you too...^”

    The room took a collective sigh of relief as Aria and Garret made their way out, shared concern mellowing out as the Gardevoir received the support she so clearly needed. It had all been a nightmare they were only now waking up from; the kind of trauma that left scars despite ending without any casualties.

    “Unfortunate. Nobody should have to deal with what you two have gone through—but it’s over now. How are you doing, Anne?” Autumn asked, trying to keep her voice as chipper as she could despite the dourness they had all just witnessed, smiling at the human girl as she sat down beside her. As much as both her words and presence were appreciated by the little human, though, the elderly psychic soon realized that her job here wasn’t yet done.

    Anne shook as thoughts she had no control over filled her mind again, her anxiety not unlike Aria’s if so much more vicious in the mental images it slipped to her. As much as she wanted it to be over, it felt like it wasn’t, like it couldn’t be, the precise fear too muddled to really hone in on, but no less potent as a result. It stewed under the girl’s skullcap, each passing moment distilling it further until all Anne could do was shake and try to stave the creeping hyperventilation off.

    “A-Anne!? Anne, c-can you hear me? Wh-what’s going on?” Ember asked, panicked, close to freaking out at her friend’s state. She wanted to help, she needed to help, but again and again found herself woefully unable to do anything but watch as her friend got worse.

    Even with Aria gone, the atmosphere in the room kept growing tenser by the moment—but the two women present wanted to do everything in their power to ensure it wouldn’t get any worse. Cinder quickly made her way over and sat down on the edge of the bed, away from Anne, holding her daughter close. She wished Ember would be as comfortable in her embrace, in her presence, as she once was. The slight, but perceptible unease in her daughter’s body language was the Delphox’s fault, and she knew she had nobody to blame for herself.

    She didn’t know how to help the human out, but she didn’t have to—Autumn was here.

    clap-clap~

    It was the quietest, most gentle clapping sound imaginable, catching Anne’s attention for just long enough to look down at the smaller psychic beside her. As she did, Autumn leaned in and grasped Anne’s hands—or at least her index fingers—in her paws, the sensation as warmly tingly as she’d come to expect with psychics.

    Cadence might’ve been taught that manipulating other people’s emotions to forcibly calm them down and make them not afraid was mean, but Autumn knew the actual truth of the matter. It wasn’t mean; it was foolish.

    It was the most temporary of band-aids—one that not only lasted for much less than many attempting it hoped for; but also one which then immediately decayed, infecting the emotional wound it was meant to shield and making it incomparably worse.

    Which was why Autumn didn’t do it.

    Directly interfering in emotions was a fool’s errand, but using one’s mind’s eye to find their source and try addressing that most certainly wasn’t. Having the girl’s attention helped, physical contact helped even more. As she dug into Anne’s panicking mind, the Indeedee slowly rocked her body from side to side, and the girl subconsciously followed. The simplest way there was to carve out some more calmness for oneself, and yet no less effective because of that.

    In no time, Anne was just that bit more grounded, and Autumn had a decent idea of what she was dealing with. Ultimately, the girl’s case wasn’t too different from the Gardevoir’s, if more focused on the individual stimuli from the discussion preceding the vote. The growls, hisses, and cries, intimidating in themselves and turned incomparably monstrous by knowing there was malice behind them, malice that wished to take her life for having been born the wrong way.

    It might’ve only been behind some of them, but it didn’t even matter—it’d just take one dissatisfied person to take Anne’s life, and the girl was acutely aware of that.

    Which was exactly why they were so focused on keeping her safe.

    “^Anne?^” Autumn whispered, the telepathic sound worming itself straight into the girl’s mind. “^I know you’re scared, sweetie. I don’t blame you, I can only imagine how terrifying all this undue horror must’ve been for you. But, I want to say, from the very bottom of my life, that you’re safe. Both in your stay here, and from anyone trying to attack you.^”

    The girl was so incredibly glad Autumn wasn’t saying these words out loud for everyone to hear. Sure, she doubted that either Ember or Cinder would mind her being afraid of the other denizens of this village, especially after she’d been through, but... a part of her still felt awful for doing so. After all, Autumn was right, she was safe, and here she was, suspecting random innocent mons of wanting to hurt her just because they were mons.

    Of course, reality was more nuanced than that, something that the Indeedee didn’t hesitate to clarify, “^Oh Anne, Anne. We both know that fear ain’t all bigotry—and with what you’ve been through, I doubt there’s that much of it in there to begin with. Because, yes, some in our village do harbor ill will towards you. But it’s a much smaller group than you fear,^” she continued. Her words were true, but insufficient—which was why she wasn’t done yet.

    “^You’re right, even a single person could hurt you badly, but at that point they’d be signing their own death wish. Cinder will be with you, watching over you, I’ll be here with you, and if anyone lifts even a finger your way, we’ll make sure they’ll never feel it right ever again.^” The description stirred the weakest of giggles in Anne’s mind, the sound as mumbly as it was sorely needed. “^I know my words can only do so much,^” the Indeedee continued, “^there’s no magical solution for what you’re going through—but I’ve learned from experience that these kinds of reassurances add up.^”

    There isn’t a cure to a traumatized mind, there never will be.

    There isn’t a cure to a broken arm, there never will be.

    Manage their symptoms, take care of any occasional flare-ups, and keep them secure from further harm, though, and they’ll slowly heal over time. They will probably never feel exactly the same as they were before, but they’ll be enough to live with.

    It was all a lesson Autumn had to learn the hard way over the years, but which she was more than glad to use to help anyone she could. Patience and being willing to manage individual spikes, be they of pain or panic, again and again, was everything, and the Indeedee was immensely relieved to see that she’d assisted Anne in processing this first one after yesterday’s anxious torment.

    Bit by bit, the girl’s body unwound; helped greatly by Autumn’s deep breathing, which Anne then involuntarily mirrored. And in; and out.

    And in; and out.

    You’re safe.

    I’m safe.

    The gradual shift was palpable to more than just the Indeedee. Once the human girl had cooled off enough, Cinder let her daughter rejoin in by letting go of her, the Braixen picking up on the gesture immediately. And, for once, Anne returned her hug right away, savoring her warmth as she whispered, “~T-thank you, M-Mrs. Autumn...~”

    “Anytime, sweetie. Now, better get to all the goodies Holly brought over before they go cold!” the Indeedee giggled, motivated equally by a genuine desire for such wonderfully smelling treats to be enjoyed as much as they could be, and by wanting Anne to further distract herself from all the terrifying thoughts with a tasty meal.

    Mostly the former.

    The contents of the little bags Holly had left behind looked just as good as they smelled. Two halves of a small, creamy cake, toppled with a few Pecha pieces and more sugar than either girl ate, even back when they still lived with their grandma. For a while, the only sounds filling the room of the healer tent were vigorous chewing and occasional gulps, Anne especially too hungry to even think about stopping her unexpected feast.

    Autumn and Cinder never quite saw eye to eye, even before Anne’s arrival and the latter’s cruelty that it had uncovered, but they could at least unite in being happy over both girls doing well. A part of the Indeedee considered the responsibility of looking after Anne for the first few months to be much, much too light a ‘punishment’ for the Delphox considering all that she’d done… but her opinion didn’t matter as long as Ember was happy with the outcome.

    And few things made Ember happier than the thought of her best friend being looked after.

    The cake each girl was eating a half of might’ve been on the smaller side, but the same was true for the girls themselves—relative to their species, that is. Tried as she might, Ember couldn’t even finish her portion, and Anne only barely managed to finish stuffing herself with hers, before cleaning up everything left after the Braixen.

    She was so used to the sensation of hunger she barely even consciously recognized it anymore, but maybe this would be enough to stave it off until sunset, hehe—

    eeeeee!

    As the best friends snuggled into one another in their shared food coma, the shrill, ethereal sound coming from behind them made them scramble to verify if it came from who they thought it did. Indeed, it had.

    Sage was shyly observing Autumn from behind her spectral hands, trying to contain her excitement with a timid wave. The Indeedee still had no idea just why did her presence make the little ghost so happy, but it didn’t matter—she was glad to see her, anyway. Without saying a word, she opened her arms for a hug facing Sage; the gesture immediately understood. One uncertain look later—answered with a reassuring nod and a telepathic comment—the Phantump hovered right over, the rough bark of her head pressing itself into the chubby psychic’s fur.

    “~G-good morning, Sage!~” Anne joined in with a wave of her own, followed up on by Ember soon after.

    It took the younger girl a while to notice, but when she did, she floated over to Anne, waving with both arms as she squealed, “~Hiiiii Anne! You look happy!~”

    Inconceivable considering the last twenty-four hours, the thought making Anne giggle a bit, but true all the same. “~Y-yeah! I’ll be staying here for good!~”

    Sage took the words in eagerly—before tilting her head, clearly confused. “~I thought you were already gonna stay.~”

    Cinder might’ve limited herself to exhaling some hot air through her nose, but others expressed their amusement much more loudly. Anne’s arm outstretched for a hug let Sage know everyone wasn’t laughing at her, but with her.

    “~No, no, we—we didn’t know that until yesterday,~” Anne clarified.

    Her words were much appreciated, letting the ghostly girl sort her confusion out before presenting something she was happy about, “~Oooooo! Me and Mr. Yaksha will be going today!~”

    Sage wasn’t expecting all the amusement to suddenly falter at her saying these words, with nobody present sure what she meant, and all of them worried to various extents. Clearly, she must’ve said something wrong; the thought bringing a fair bit of worry. Before it could grow too much, though, Autumn tried to clear the air, “Oh? Where will you be going, sweetie?”

    “~Home! That’s what Mr. Yaksha told me. Mr. Yaksha!~” the Phantump called. Without waiting for a response, she hovered through the nearby wall once more before dragging the Banette with herself, taken aback by it all. She then realized she’d left her wig behind, gasping at the oversight and phasing once more to retrieve it before, at the last moment, remembering re-enter the room through the physical entrance. “~Mr. Yaksha, are we going home today?~”

    The follow-up brought some well-needed clarification, letting the Banette go from uncomfortable confusion to slightly-less-uncomfortable ‘having to correct another of many misunderstandings with Sage’. Still far from something he enjoyed, making him stifle a groan before he spoke up, “~I didn’t say we’re going home today, Sage. I just said we’d need to talk more about it today.~”

    While Sage groaned at her hopes being delayed, Anne realized something else. Sure, either Autumn or Cinder must’ve been providing translation right now, but... her ears were picking up the Banette’s words too. They weren’t just whispers and ghostly wails, and while he was much harder to understand than Sage, both because of the distortion over his voice and the older vocabulary, he was clearly speaking Unovan.

    She probably should’ve expected that considering these two had arrived together and could communicate before they got here, but it still took her aback a bit.

    “Well... I’m not any more opposed to you two trying to return Sage to her home today than I was yesterday, but the logistic woes remain, don’t they?” Autumn asked. As the lil’ haunting floated back over to her, she continued, “Only a vague direction, no way of asking for directions...”

    Off to the side, Cinder was trying her absolute hardest to piece the context of the discussion together from the little she’d just overheard. Obviously something was going on that she wasn’t privy about, the mentions of a nearby ‘home’ that the Phantump wanted to go back to. Was she a human-owned mon that got lost in the woods and was looking for a way back—

    ...

    Oh, gods.

    As unfortunate as Sage’s fate was, Cinder wasn’t any better at sympathizing with dead humans than she was with living ones. Thankfully, she could provide help in other ways, immediately thinking through the situation she was quickly piecing together—and arriving at one immediate conclusion. “^No matter what you settle on, it would likely be best if you put your plan into action today. With Anne’s situation already judged, I imagine you’d want to get out of here before Elders get you in their sights...^”

    The Delphox kept her gaze pinned on the entrance to the room, away from the group—only for everyone present to turn towards her in unison at her words. Not something anyone was expecting her to say for multiple reasons, and she wasn’t feeling like justifying herself in depth, settling on a barebones excuse, “^I assume you already know about the risks something like that will pose. Me restating them would bring no help.^”

    She only barely managed to force these words through the sheer discomfort that the thought of someone with the knowledge of their village permanently living amongst humans brought her, but the self-inflicted Calm Mind did a good job of keeping it under wraps.

    “That is a good point, yes,” the Indeedee acknowledged. “We ought to figure it out as soon as we can... someone that could help figure out the way would be ideal, either by being able to see their whole town from above or by asking humans for help, either a flier or a psychic—I’ve got an idea!” she gasped, turning to Sage as a light switch flipped in her head, “I’ll need to ask Marco about this, I hope he’ll be willing to help.”

    Ember nodded as eagerly as she could, leaning around her friend to chime in. “Y-yes! I-I know Mr. Marco will wanna help us! He helped me remember Anne; he’s great!”

    As Anne used the opportunity to pull the vixen into a one-armed hug—the gesture immediately returned—Cinder raised a question, “^To... to the best of my knowledge, he’s still recovering after I… attacked him a few days ago. If Sage here needs a psychic to help her out, why not you, Autumn, or myself if someone can look after Anne in the meantime?^”

    The Delphox tried to keep herself from reeling under the Anne’s shocked look at hearing that, and managed—if barely. She focused on what Autumn’s response would be; the Indeedee chewing through both other options. Unfortunately, both of them suffered from the same issue. “I imagine it’d be much easier for Marco to look like another human for when he has to talk to them for directions. I’m too small, and you’re too... fluffy.”

    “^Considering we’ll need to either obscure or fully disguise ourselves for this task, I don’t see size making much difference,^” Cinder argued, raising a single eyebrow at the Indeedee.

    Only for it to fall back down as the smaller psychic clarified, “That’s the thing, maybe we won’t have to!” Autumn grinned, walking around the bed towards the Delphox. “I know Marco hasn’t fully recovered, but with his human shape, I’m thinking that we could use some of the human clothes Aria and Lumi brought over so that we can cover most of him, and then he’d only have to disguise his face and hands, and maybe feet. Much easier than keeping himself fully obscured, ain’t it?”

    Not something Cinder could deny, nodding slowly as she brought up another point, “^Though that would leave him visible, and able to be spotted if his disguise slips.^”

    “Truuuue, but I imagine that the cover of dark will make it harder for humans to spot any slip-ups. Besides, with Sage and Yaksha beside him, it’ll probably be best if he is visible, just so that other humans think they are ‘his’ mons and not wild ones.”

    Yaksha grumbled under his breath at being referred to as someone’s mon, even if for the sake of illustration. That aside, Autumn was making sense, and now the ball was back in the tall Fire-type’s court to refute—which she couldn’t. “^Hmm. That sounds like a good idea, yes. It will be a perilous undertaking even then, I reckon,^” Cinder sighed, shuddering at the thought of everything that could go wrong.

    “Not gonna disagree,” Autumn admitted, “but, after all, certainty is a luxury rarely granted. He’s gonna be alright.”

    Before she could get into any more pondering, one obvious hitch presented itself—one they could all take care of there and then. “But but but, I’m going off here talking about him like he’s gonna follow along without questions. Have to bring this up to him, and hope he won’t rebuff us at the idea. Which meansssss~”

    Autumn turned away from Cinder and back towards the human of the group, skipping before her and asking with all the eagerness and excitement she could muster out of her elderly voice,

    “Do you feel like going for a walk with us, Anne?”


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 31: Curiosity

    • Chapter 31: Curiosity​


    The idea of heading outside was as exciting as it was worrisome.

    Even putting the purely logistical issues aside—Anne felt a bit better than yesterday evening, but doubted she was strong enough to walk unassisted—she was still unsure about some things. Her brief walk alongside Aria was more terrifying than either of them could’ve predicted, for many reasons. Some of them obvious, some… much less so.

    Would she still be so terrified of the passersby in the daylight? Would the self-consciousness about being seen to be afraid of them without a good reason immediately start pummeling her? Would she make an embarrassing spectacle of herself because of difficulties walking?

    Neither Anne nor anyone else had any answers to these questions.

    Either way, she lived here now, and would have to go outside, eventually. Her current company was the best she could’ve asked for in these uncertain conditions. It was just a matter of gathering the courage, pushing through these worries, and daring to venture into the vast unknown beyond these four-ish walls she’d spent the past few days in.

    Said action took about fifteen seconds of consideration, but they were some of the more intense fifteen seconds in Anne’s life.

    With that settled, Anne began her slow routine of preparing to brave the outside, a more awkward one than she’d expected it to be. Sure, Autumn had her shawl, but that was a matter of moments as opposed to the minutes it took the human girl to slide into everything needed.

    Especially without help, which would’ve made it all ten times more uncomfortable.

    Thin, but still-holeless socks, muddied shoes, reasonably thick jeans, an old sweater she got from grandma Lisa and stretched so much over the years she still fit it. A jacket would’ve been a good idea too, but her current one had the double issue of being stashed somewhere else in the village, and being soaked in blood.

    They’d all have to learn how to clean Anne’s array of clothes eventually, ha.

    But that was then, and now the sweater was perfectly sufficient—especially when combined with Ember refusing to let go of her and Autumn’s Safeguard. Finally, after some of the most self-conscious few minutes of her life, Anne was ready to head out.

    And the village hidden in the Unovan woods greeted her with snow and interesting architecture.

    She wasn’t ever the one to pay a lot of attention to buildings, but it was hard not to notice the sheer diversity of shapes and materials on display here. Canvas, logs, thick planks reinforced with tar, stones, fired bricks—even dirt and mud; the snow capping the diligently kept mounds left them hard to spot at a glance.

    Almost all of them were quite a bit smaller than any houses in Mylock, but she supposed it made sense—they had to hide from humanity, after all.

    ...

    And they probably didn’t have that much stuff that needed to be stored...

    The thought stung, snapping Anne back to her surroundings as Ember held her good arm that bit tighter. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t run from the reality of the villagers’ opinion of her forever. Grabbing the Braixen’s paw, the human took a deep breath as their group turned around the corner, ready to face the leers and snarls ahead—

    And finding... curiosity.

    Granted, she wasn’t a body language expert even for humans, let alone for the over dozen species in eyeshot, but she couldn’t spot anything that felt threatening. There were some wary looks, sure. A few passersby looked away from her; a couple glared at her for a split second before noticing her company—but nothing more than that.

    Which didn’t help as much as Anne hoped it would.

    The awareness of not knowing what a threat display would even look like refused to be shaken off, undermining any relief trying to form in her mind. A part of her clung to it with all its strength, not wanting to let go of it, of the familiar fear tied to it. Not now, not ever. Alas, she didn’t have the privilege of being able to spend her life without ever facing her fears.

    The realization sparked just enough courage for her to up her pace a bit, and the rest of the group followed suit. Whether this confidence was a pretense that would fizzle the moment it was needed, not even she knew.

    Surprisingly, it wasn’t Anne that had to be reassured the most.

    The quiet whimpers coming from her left clued her to Sage’s uncertainty—as did the ghostie retreating into the well-worn fabric of her sweater. With her broken arm kept underneath that topmost layer, she couldn’t physically comfort the younger girl—aside from talking to her, that is. “~Are you okay, Sage?~” she asked.

    The Phantump jumped at the sound before redoubling her cuddling efforts, her voice wavering, “~Y-yeah...~”

    “~You sound quite scared.~”

    While Sage didn’t react to Anne acknowledging the obvious, Yaksha did. Without waiting for elaboration, the Banette caught up with the two girls and checked up on the lil’ ghost, before sighing in relief at her being unharmed. As he gathered words, Anne glanced over her shoulder—and spotted nobody following them. Hadn’t Cinder left together with them all?

    “~Sage, did something happen?~” the Banette asked intently, trying and failing to pry his ward away from the human’s comforting presence.

    The ghostie tried to shake her head with as much confidence as she was capable of, only for each motion to grow more and more hesitant, anyway. “~It’s scary here,~” she whimpered. “~When can we go home, Mr. Yaksha?~”

    The pleading in her squeaky, ethereal voice was both hard to miss and even harder to respond to in a way that wouldn’t upset her more. “~I told you, Sage, we’re planning to do that later today. As... Autumn said, we will need help, and we’re walking to ask a local for said help,~” Yaksha explained. Despite his best effort to keep his exasperation under control, some of it still spilled out to his chagrin.

    “Yeah! Don’t worry Sage, Mr. Marco will help you both out very soon!” Ember cheered, excited.

    While her words wouldn’t have helped much by itself, the vixen accompanied them with pulling Sage into a small hug, her warmth calming the young girl down. Once she felt a bit better, Sage squeaked out, “~O-okay. Thank you...~”

    As the Phantump warmed up and the Banette stifled his bitter murmurs at being unable to help the girl yet again, Anne brought up an obvious-in-hindsight question. Sure, she didn’t know what the villagers thought of her, but someone else did—someone walking just a few feet ahead of them, even. “~Mrs. Autumn?~”

    The girl swore she saw the Psychic-type’s horns perk up a bit as she caught her attention. She didn’t have the time to consider the implications of that observation as the Indeedee turned around and responded with a smile, “^Yes, Anne? Doing alright, sweetie?^”

    Either binary answer would’ve been at least a partial lie. And so; Anne dodged the question, instead asking, “~I-I wanted to ask. How did everyone... r-react to me staying? I know it was quite late last evening when that whole discussion happened...~”

    Every word drained the girl of more and more confidence she kept trying to stuff herself with. Before the earlier worries could strike back, though, Autumn reassured her, “^Rather well from what I picked up on this morning. Sure, there were some disgruntled voices, but we could find a wellspring of honey and wine and there would still be complainers. Nothing that hasn’t happened before, don’t you worry Anne.^”

    It was right about the response Anne’s rational part expected, and having it be spoken by someone else helped keep her nerves from getting the better of her again. Much to her surprise, though, Autumn wasn’t done yet. “^Though in all truth, most people’s thoughts seemed and still seem more focused on what Marco brought up at the vote, about us having to relocate eventually.^”

    The sudden swerve in the discussion took Anne and Ember aback, especially with such a heavy and worrisome topic. The Braixen didn’t remember hearing about it yesterday. Then again, the only thing her tired mind could focus on last evening was keeping tabs on her human’s wellbeing. She asked, confused, “Wh-why would we have to move, Autumn? A-aren’t we safe here? A-and there’s a lot of food...”

    The Indeedee gave the Braixen a small smile as she tried to reason with the very uncomfortable reality. For once, it was her turn to cling to her human instead of the other way around as the Indeedee responded, her words shocking both girls, “^It’s not because of that sweetie, it’s because the humans are making maps from the sky, and those maps have already seen us.^”

    Autumn wasn’t entirely sure about her explanation, most of it lifted straight from Marco who himself only had a partial understanding of it at best. As Ember struggled to make any sense of it, the Indeedee looked to Anne, hoping that her knowledge of human stuff would help translate that abstract description into something more concrete for them all.

    Which... it didn’t, not initially. Anne struggled with parsing the explanation more than either she or the Indeedee expected. They both knew that if anyone of their group could understand what Marco was referring to, it was her. And yet it just wasn’t—

    ...

    ...

    Maps from the sky.

    Photos from the sky.

    Oh shit.

    The human girl’s timidness only made the inward expletive hit harder for the psychic. It confirmed at least one part of this worrisome enigma—Marco wasn’t exaggerating; this was serious.

    “~I-I think I know what that means, and if it is what—what I think it is, then that is scary, yes.~”

    Anne couldn’t identify with the village enough to grow as subconsciously mortified at that knowledge as others—not yet. That didn’t make it any less scary at a purely intellectual level, though. Her confirmation made the Braixen beside her shake even harder and cling to her human.

    “^Don’t you worry, Ember,^” Autumn chimed. “^We’re already slowly planning our move; we’ll do everything we can to remain safe. I won’t deny, it’ll be a difficult time for us all, but better to migrate voluntarily while we still can than be forced to run when we least expect it.^”

    The Indeedee’s smile did wonders in melting the vixen’s worries, her shaking easing as her one-eyed gaze alternated between the fellow psychic and her best friend. Once she felt a bit calmer, she responded, “O-okay, thank you, Autumn... wh-when will we have to leave?”

    Even with the immediate terror gone, nerves remained, the kind only time could ever help with. And for better or worse, time was something they still had plenty of. Autumn explained, “^Oh, nowhere soon sweetie. Last I heard, even just planning it all will be a multi-Moon undertaking. The last thing we wanna do is to leave only to run face-first into more danger, after all. Either way, not something for you two to fret about. We can handle it, alright?^”

    It was much easier for Ember to settle her worries about that topic than for Anne, and even the vixen couldn’t help but fret. Ultimately, Autumn was right—the Braixen trusted her fellow villagers, especially the adults, to keep them all safe.

    Something Anne had immense difficulties with. Little she could do about it at the moment though, trying to distract herself away from the unpleasant topic. Once more, she dared to look around, this time deliberately skipping faces or anything else that might inspire further doubt.

    They were looking for Marco, might as well try to play the game of “Spot the Gallade”.

    The next few minutes were spent in silence as everyone’s nerves cooled off at varying speeds. Whereas the melodic, almost singing-like noises they heard in the distance made Ember relax—the Braixen even trying to hum along with them for a moment—they only brought further discomfort to Sage by being so loud and so very inhuman, and provided more fuel for thought for Anne.

    She hadn’t made any serious attempts to listen to the village’s language yet, immediately discarding that entire idea as infeasible. And yet, she’d have to learn it eventually anyway—it or another way of communicating with the villagers. How she would do that, she had no idea—but again, maybe Autumn did?

    “^Yes I do, sweetie~,^” the Indeedee giggled. “^Well, as far as just our, or I guess more accurately Orion’s language goes, it’s focused much more on tones and cadence than it is on the actual sounds being made. Not everyone knows how to trill, but almost everyone can make something similar to it, for example. Add the changes in pitch, space it out the right way, and voilà—completely different species can suddenly talk! After a few months of learning and many years of practice, of course, but it’s so much better than not having that, believe me.^”

    Anne wasn’t sure which took her aback more—Autumn chiming in so abruptly, or her brief linguistic explanation. It didn’t make anywhere near as much sense as the girl wished it had, but the gist was straightforward. They were all using the same language, and there was a way for her to learn it.

    And if it was generous enough with pronunciation to allow both Torkoal and Decidueye to speak it, then her getting the hang of it was only a matter of time. She hoped. She really, really hoped.

    “Doncha worry, sweetie. Once you settle in, you’ll probably be attending the nursery together with Bell for a while—Jovan and Pearl will get you talking in no time!” Autumn reassured. Her switch away from telepathy and to ‘just’ telepathically translated speech took Anne aback for a moment, but she appreciated it all the same.

    Even if she was much too overstimulated to try breaking the squeaked, hummed, and growled utterances down into their individual components.

    The Indeedee wasn’t done yet, giggling, “Oh goodness, just the mental image... all the little ones listening in and then you beside them, taller than even their teachers, teehee...” Any attempts at keeping her composure soon faded as one burst of giggles gave way to another, until the chubby psychic had to cover her mouth with her paw.

    Ember wasn’t far behind in that regard—and for once, neither was Anne. There was some anxiety about sticking out from a group like that and earning undue attention as a result, but hopefully, the height difference would shrink a lot once she sat down. And besides, her chat with Pearl the previous evening was nothing if not pleasant. It would be alright—

    CRASH!​

    The harsh sound echoed from around the corner, hitting the entire party differently. Autumn and Ember barely acknowledged it, only coming to a stop once they noticed Anne had frozen mid-step. Sage fared a little better than the living girl, dashing to hide behind her older friend.

    A moment later, Yaksha stood in front of the group, shadowy hands clenching in anticipation of having to put himself on the line for the Phantump. Before Autumn could have a chuckle at his expense for overreacting, the hauntling aired the question that was on half the group’s mind, “~What was that?~”

    “I have a good guess—yep, it’s these two.”

    Autumn’s mid-sentence shift made everyone look toward where the sound came from—though the sight of a Scizor walking from around the corner and dragging a massive, half-broken metal contraption would’ve done the same even without her nudge. Another Steel-type followed him moments later; the Mawile making up for their much smaller stature through constant, audible grumbling. Their frustration was obvious despite the language barrier—but that didn’t extend to the sounds they made once they glanced at Anne.

    Before anyone could react, the bleeding knee-high fairy made a beeline for the human; Anne’s mind only avoided jumping to the ‘flight’ option because of being was stuck on ‘freeze’. A few moments later, more of Mawile’s noises—growls, clicks, even whistles, but with no meaning to back any of it up. Thankfully, the Indeedee soon noticed she’d forgotten to link the tinkerer menace to their group—and understanding soon followed.

    Or at least, as much understanding as anyone could’ve ever extracted out of Mikiri. “Human! How is that thing supposed to stop?”

    Anne’s terrified brain took a moment to realize she’d actually heard coherent words this time, and even longer to parse them. Not a threat, just a question. A question about ‘that thing’, whatever it was—wait, the bike? “~U-uh... d-do you mean the bike?~” Anne asked, daring to relax her body a bit as she eyed over the... peculiar-looking bicycle a few meters away, the Scizor carrying it wordlessly observing the entire exchange from a distance.

    The Mawile answered, “Yes, the two-wheel! How is it supposed to stop?” The steady trickle of rust-colored blood down her face wasn’t as terrifying with their intentions not having anything to do with her, but the sight remained unnerving.

    Not a question Anne ever expected to be asked, especially not in a place like this—but one she, for once, knew an answer to. “~O-oh, there’s supposed to be—~” she began, only for her attempted explanation to becut off by the bloodied Mawile turning around and dragging the damaged contraption in question over, making valiant progress despite her underwhelming stature.

    And letting the human girl notice all the parts that had been attached to it through more or less scuffed means. Certain parts were wrapped with wire, a few rust-covered pieces of metal were welded to the steering column, and an assortment of junk was tangled in the spokes of the front wheel in ways that felt at best too intelligent for her feeble mind to understand, and at worst, like the machinations of a meth head.

    Anne had a very hard time deciding which of these two groups the Mawile before her reminded her more of.

    “Where? Where’s the thing that’s supposed to stop it!?” The Fairy-type asked, her gaze jumping all over before she spotted Anne’s good hand. It was pointing towards the front of the vehicle while trying its absolute hardest to not come closer to the Mawile than it absolutely had to. “This?”

    The entire once-bicycle creaking like it was about to fall apart after the little two-faced creature shook it by the steering handle sure didn’t inspire much confidence in Anne. “~No, there’s the small lever to the side—~”

    Before she could even finish, the tinkerer before her had spotted the mechanical part in question and pressed on it. After that accomplished nothing, they then repeated that with one hand while trying to spin the front wheel with the other one—which it did freely.

    Anne gulped at the realization, once more having to fight an impulse to back off. Shoot, shoot, shoot, why did that not work? The brakes must’ve been broken, but that’s not what the girl was worried about. She’d just given them advice, and it didn’t work at all. Didn’t matter that she wasn’t knowingly lying; the Mawile wouldn’t appreciate her words turning out false—

    “Okay, so this is the broken part, then. There’s this cable that goes down down down and some of it is dangling from this bit beside the wheel, but they’re not connected and should be. Gotta untie all that and take a better look at what goes on in there...” the Mawile muttered. For a few long moments, the entire world, aside from the roughly bike-shaped pile of assorted junk, ceased to exist for her. It was only Autumn’s mental nudge that brought her back to awareness of her immediate surroundings—a scared human, an unamused Indeedee, an even more unamused Scizor, a curious Phantump, a disgruntled Banette, and a confused Braixen.

    Oh right, that first one was still there—and would be staying here; that’s what the entire hubbub yesterday was about. Mikiri figured it’d be appropriate to say something, then, “Iiiiii will take a closer look at that in my workshop. And you...” she turned to face the human beside her, their eyes growing that bit wider, “...thanks. Glad that you’re staying, knew the Elders were just making a show of nothing. Anywho, there’s a bunch of your stuff still at my burrow if you want it back—OH!”

    After the Mawile had changed the subject three separate times in thirty seconds, Anne was left too stunned to do anything but stand and stare, hoping she hadn’t unknowingly made a gaffe. Thankfully for her, the words that followed weren’t about anything like that.

    Unfortunately, they weren’t about anything she was comfortable answering, either. “That two-wheel of yours is also at my burrow, fixed the wheel if you’ll be needing it—willyoubeneedingit?” the Mawile asked with a glint in her eye, the final few words smeared together to the point of nigh-incomprehension despite Autumn’s help. Just what kind of glint it was, though, Anne had no idea nor any desire to find out.

    There also remained... another issue. “~Th-thank you! B-but, that’s not my bike, I... took it when running away—~” Anne stammered, worrying about being judged for what was technically grand theft—only for the metal fairy to neither notice nor care about that.

    “But will you be needing it?”

    Off to the side, Autumn and Ori facepalmed in perfect sync, the clunk of the latter echoing throughout the small intersection.

    “~I-I don’t think so—~”

    “Perfect! Thanks again! Time to get a move on Ori, got the brakes to fix! There’s this small metal wire inside this black stretchy casing on both ends; I’m wondering if just welding it the normal way will work or will we—thump”

    Before the Mawile could get further than about four steps toward her burrow, she fell face-first into the snow without as much as another word. For a few moments, everyone waited for her to pull off yet more wild antics, most onlookers backing off just in case. And yet, Mikiri remained immobile for once in her life.

    Once Autumn checked what was going on with her other senses... yeah, it wasn’t hard to see why. “She fainted.”

    The Indeedee had to use utmost willpower to not chuckle as she said these words. Even then, she didn’t manage to maintain her seriousness for much longer, especially once Ori dashed over to pick up his partner in crime and rush her to the healers’ tent, leaving the mockery of a bicycle where it lay and letting it gather even more rust.

    Hers was hardly a unique reaction, laughter of all sorts filling the scene soon after. That didn’t extend to Sage and especially not Anne, the latter much more worried than amused. “~Wh-what happened to her?~”

    “If I had to guess, blood loss. Doubt there’s a ton of it in her to begin with, and this is hardly the only time in the past few days she got herself messed up without resting nearly as much as she should’ve. Won’t say that she deserved it or anything of that sort, but... she kinda brought it on herself,” the Indeedee chuckled, tilting her head for the group to resume its trek.

    “~She looked like she needed a doctor.~”

    Neither Autumn nor Anne could resist smiling at the Phantump’s wording. The former explained, “Oh, she does, Sage, for so many reasons. But when the bits of genius within her crawl out of... everything else inside her, it’s something else alright.”

    The older girl was especially glad that Sage still had that innocence to her, despite having gone through so much pain. And with them getting going and the ghostie on her mind, her thoughts veered back to the undertaking discussed back at the healers’ tent.

    “~E-excited about going back to your home, Sage?~” Anne asked, maintaining the upbeat tone for exactly long enough to finish saying that sentence out loud, and not an instant longer—not at what her mind had to say to the idea of a reunion like that.

    She wasn’t the only one with concerns about it all, but the ones Sage had in mind weren’t... the same as Anne’s. “~Yeah! I really wanna see my mom again, and say sorry for scaring her like this...~”

    Without taking another step, Autumn dropped everything she was thinking about and turned to comfort the undead girl, with Anne and Ember following soon after. Sage wasn’t feeling bad enough to warrant that, leaving her a bit confused. But hugs were hugs, and she liked hugs! So all was well.

    “None of what happened was your fault, Sage, I promise,” Autumn sad, looking the Phantump straight in the eyes. This was a worry nobody ought to ever have to deal with, especially not a child this young and innocent.

    Anne wanted to chime in, too.

    Sage deserved all the reassurance in the world, to be comforted about the worry she’d raised. No, her mom wouldn’t be mad at her for scaring her, obviously not. Anne wanted to go further, to reassure the girl that her mom wouldn’t mind her daughter for looking like this now either, but... she couldn’t.

    The thought felt like her mind had been bitten by a poisonous mon, worry and doubt spreading through her brain with each heartbeat. She wished that Sage’s parents would accept their daughter with all their hearts, but she didn’t have that confidence. If anything, she had its exact opposite—she had a hard time imagining a human in the situation of Sage’s parents not growing furious or horrified at some random ghost claiming to be their dead child.

    Anne hadn’t ever heard anything about humans coming back as ghosts.

    Other mons sure—but all her biology classes always excluded humans specifically. She now knew that it wasn’t true, and that humans weren’t special in that regard, but most people didn’t. Hell, even if the Phantump’s parents did know that, trying to imagine their reaction to a ghost approaching them with what sounded like the world’s most cruel taunt made Anne shudder.

    It was too terrifying to think about, and she had no idea what to say.

    She couldn’t have been the only one struggling with these doubts, right? And yet, nobody else had mentioned anything about them—not Autumn, not Yaksha, not Cinder. She wanted to bring them up, but didn’t know when. Ideally when Sage wasn’t paying attention—but, then again, wasn’t that the worst possible time for a truth bomb like that? Didn’t Sage deserve to know what she was getting into?

    The uncomfortable, harrowing thoughts churned inside Anne’s mind as the group marched on, trying their hardest to find a way out and yet being unable to. She was sure that if she thought about Autumn intensely enough, she’d have picked up on it, but she didn’t want the Phantump to notice—at least not now.

    What an awful mess.

    The muck inside her head made it hard to pay attention to anything outside her head, leaving Anne to just walk on autopilot. Her eyes took in the imposing brick building of Holly’s pantry, the large open tent that quite a few children were sleeping under, but the imagery didn’t sink into her mind; too busy spinning in place.

    She wasn’t sure when they had all changed their course to another of the closed tents, but the sweet herbal scents emanating from it were pleasant enough to snag at least some of Anne’s attention—especially when combined with what sounded like Marco’s voice coming from the inside.

    Once they all stepped in, Autumn and Ember exchanged a few waves with the assorted mons sitting on the benches as the Gallade turned to face them all, surprised at the impromptu visit. Beside Marco sat an oddly purplish Wigglytuff—and it was he who spoke first, “Good morning everyone! It is a joy to see you all doing well, especially you, An... Anna—”

    “^Anne,^” the Gallade added telepathically, his physical mouth sipping on hot tea.

    “Yes, Anne, my apologies! I hope you’ll attend my and Pearl’s classes sooner rather than later. We already put in some thought about how to make sure you’d be able to learn with the others without any incidents.” The green-eyed Normal-type stressed his words with a polite bow, missed on behalf of Anne’s mind having gotten stuck on imagining the implications of the word ‘incident’.

    With the human girl preoccupied, Autumn responded for her, “Yep, I’m sure she’ll be speaking our language in no time! That’s not why I hunted you both down, though~.” The appreciation in Autumn’s voice gave way to focus as she shifted her gaze from her coworker to her son-in-law.

    Marco’s eyebrow lifted at the sudden change as he asked, “^What’s the matter?^”

    With one deep breath to gather her words, and another one to keep the harrowing emotions associated with Sage’s flashback at bay, the Indeedee explained, “Marco, meet Sage. Sage, meet Marco.” She lifted a paw toward the lil’ hauntling, catching her attention and prompting her to wave at the tall psychic.

    “~Hello Mr. Marco!~” the Phantump squeaked, glad to meet another non-scary person. Even more so if said person would help her get back home.

    The Gallade wasn’t as eager, not with how oblique his mother-in-law was being, but he figured that saying hi to a little girl wouldn’t hurt. “^Good morning, Sage. It’s nice to meet you.^”

    Neither of the two expected the lil’ ghost to reel back at hearing his voice, especially when accompanied by the very clear sensation of fear. It wasn’t that intense and only lasted for as long as Marco spoke, but it was still there, and it was still enough to discourage both of them from directly talking to each other any further.

    As much as Autumn wanted to interrupt her own discussion plan and delve into figuring out what was wrong, she knew this was more important. “Anyway—Sage here is... was a human. I’ll spare her the exact recollection, but she is the ghost of a human.”

    Even when trying to be as clinical as possible, she was well aware that this direct description was more than harrowing enough to upset the little ghost again, making the Indeedee glance over at her to see if she needed that extra support. The answer was yes—but Anne and Ember were already on top of it, smothering the wooden ghost in as much comfort and warmth as they were capable of.

    Jovan gasped, “I am so terribly sorry to hear.” He covered his mouth with a paw, trying his best to hold back tears. Some of them still leaked at the thought of the little undead girl having friends to look after her as she processed her unfortunate fate.

    Best the Indeedee could do was get it all over with sooner. “Yes, it is a sad situation. I mentioned all this because Sage wishes to eventually return to humanity, and with Aria not doing well today, I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to help her out, Marco.”

    Autumn stared at the Gallade with all the seriousness and composure she was capable of, the attitude so unlike her it left the other psychic somewhat unnerved. Thankfully, it was one of those inquiries with a very simple answer—

    “That is quite a curious difference between you two,” Jovan commented, derailing the trains of thought of everyone gathered and drawing enough attention to him to melt Anne instantly were it aimed at her. Attention that the Wigglytuff cherished, smiling at having raised what he hoped to be an interesting tangent as he continued, “Little Sage here—Phantump in body, yet human in spirit, and yearns for others like her. And Anne, an inversion—human to the eye, yet desired to stay with us, almost as opposite from living with humans as can be.”

    The impromptu tangent left the onlookers more stunned than impressed, eroding Jovan’s confidence in his point by the moment. Alas, it was the inevitable outcome of many a philosophizing, and he wasn’t a stranger to making a joke of himself either. “Of course, that’s just a single, surface-level observation. I can only extrapolate so much out of your circumstances. Either way, it is best I go back to the nursery. The little ones will be waking up from their naps anytime now, and I don’t want to leave Pearl taking care of them all!”

    With an undeservedly jovial chuckle, the Wigglytuff hopped off his seat and started floating his way toward the exit of the tea shop. Right before he left, though, he turned around one more time to say his goodbyes, “Hope to see you all soon! Especially you, Anne. I’m very curious to hear how our language will sound being spoken by a human.”

    Probably like gibberish, but as long as others could understand it, Anne didn’t mind. “~Th-thank you, Mr. Jovan,~” she said—only for the Fairy-type to stop in his tracks at her boilerplate response.

    She leaned away a bit as Jovan processed what he’d heard—before eventually responding with the most elated voice many gathered have ever heard him use, “Oh, you will make for a beautiful singing voice! If you desire that, of course! Now, now, off I go before I get distracted again, ha!”

    As most of the group blinked the unexpected tangent away and Autumn rubbed her temples at the Wigglytuff’s... insensitive remark, Anne felt dread shoot through her at the mere mention of singing. Hell, even speaking didn’t come easy to her. The thought of making an entire spectacle out of herself and deliberately catching everyone’s attention with her voice was nothing short of nightmare fuel—nightmare fuel that Ember’s warmth burned through in an instant.

    “So~, how does that sound, Marco?” Autumn asked, snapping the group’s focus back to the discussion at hand.

    The Gallade’s answer hadn’t gotten any more complex in the few minutes after he was cut off—if anything, the delay had only made him even more confident. “^Yes, of course I will. What would you have in mind, Autumn?^” He asked, pushing his unfinished cup to the side as he leaned in, keen on discussing the details.

    A part of him knew he shouldn’t have been so eager to jump into Autumn’s plan right away, especially not while recovering from injury and an entire strenuous day yesterday. All that could wait, though. He could help. He wanted to help, help in more ways than just accidentally stumbling on some important information while being distrustful of his sister.

    Autumn beckoned Yaksha closer from the back of the group as she walked up to Marco’s bench, leaving the trio of kids standing off to the side. The specifics of her plan were... messy and uncertain, and best kept for telepathy. “^What we had in mind was you escorting Sage and Yaksha into the human town on the other side of the forest, where Sage’s family lives. They’ll need someone who can ask for directions from the humans, and you look much closer to a human than either myself or Cinder.^”

    That... was more involved than what Marco thought it’d be. He didn’t respond immediately, instead chewing through the situation and how it was likely to play out. Concern after concern arose, none of them too difficult to notice, even from a cursory thought.

    Fortunately, they were just the worries that Autumn had already gone through earlier, and she was keen to get Marco up to speed. She spoke up again before he could put audible thoughts to the inaudible ones, “^Yes, having ghosts walking in their town will draw attention and unrest—that’s why we want you to disguise yourself as a human so that other humans think they’re ‘your’ mons. Among the clothes Aria brought from that friend of Anne a few days back is a large outer garment that should obscure most of you, which ought to be enough if you go out at night and stick to less-used paths. There are risks of you becoming spotted, but since it’s not the town where Anne escaped from, it shouldn’t cause any issues even in that worst case.^”

    Autumn felt a bit guilty as she watched Marco’s expression flatten with her every word, uncertain what was causing it.

    For a while, he worried the Indeedee had already come up with every single concern he had in mind—but there just so happened to be one still unaccounted for, reassuring him about not being as dim as he feared he was. He asked, “^How do you envision I ‘ask for directions’? Wouldn’t that be suspicious by itself?^”

    “~Hardly. Just pose as a tourist and nobody will be any wiser,~” Yaksha commented offhandedly, most of his attention still focused on watching over Sage.

    While Autumn and Marco decoded what ‘tourist’ meant from the Banette’s thoughts, Anne took it upon herself to try broaching the unpleasant topic she had thought about earlier. The adults were already talking quietly amongst themselves; she’d just have to pull Sage away so that she wouldn’t overhear. Which...

    “~Ember?~” Anne shook her friend’s shoulder as she spoke, her uncertain yet focused expression eliciting much the same one from the Braixen. “~Could you distract Sage for a while? I-I wanna talk to the rest about something... serious.~”

    The firefox listened intently before nodding as firmly as she could manage. Opportunities to help her best friend had always been few and far between, and she wouldn’t waste this one, no matter how minor it was. “Of course!” she woofed. “J-just out of earshot?”

    Before the human girl could even respond, the Braixen was already ushering the Phantump over to the tea corner’s counter, telepathically talking to her about something Anne couldn’t pick up on. With a muttered ‘thank you’, she turned back to the rest of the group and approached, her expression interrupting their mostly silent exchange before she even spoke up.

    “^What’s wrong, Anne?^” Autumn asked, trying to give the girl the largest and warmest smile she could muster—only for it to immediately falter upon hearing what she had to say.

    “~A-are you sure Sage’s parents will take her back in?~”​

    The trio’s expressions were all shocked, to wildly varying extents. Autumn was taken aback somewhat, chewing through what she thought on and hoped about all this, the mental efforts culminating with a sigh. Marco stared at Anne wide-eyed, cursing himself for not bringing up this straightforward yet crucial question earlier.

    Yaksha... lowered his head and closed his eyes.

    “^Well, obviously we can’t be certain, Anne, but... I was quite hopeful with how convinced Sage and Yaksha were about it, though now the more I think about it...^” the Indeedee whispered, shuddering as she imagined first the worst possible outcome, and then the most likely one—and feared at how similar they were.

    Beside her, Marco remained silent, not having anything to add for himself but unspoken self-loathing, overlooked in the tense discussion.

    After a few tense moments, Yaksha let out a quiet groan and stared up at Anne—before wincing and directing his increasingly furious glare downwards, as if trying to sear through the dirt beneath them. “~She deserves closure. Humans are,~” he cut himself off, angling his body even further away from Anne as he continued, “~most humans are wretches. Of course, they won’t take their child back in after a change like that, I’m not pretending they will.~”

    Anne raised her voice as she asked, expression narrowing, “~Then why lead Sage on?~”

    “~So that she’ll stop thinking about it. Once she sees it for herself, sees that there’s no coming back, she’ll finally let go of that idea. And then... we might stay here if she wants. Or somewhere else...~” Yaksha muttered. As snarled as his words were, there was a hesitation in them that Anne wasn’t sure how to interpret. Was this something he genuinely thought, or something he came up with on the spot to mask him not having considered that before?

    Ultimately, it didn’t matter—it was reprehensible either way.

    Against her better judgment, Anne took half a step closer to the ghost, anger flashing on her face as she spoke, “~Why don’t you just tell her that!?~”

    “~She won’t listen, she never has!~” The Banette raised his voice at the overt disapproval of his actions, the gaze of his pink eyes piercing straight through the human. As wound up as the girl had gotten on this topic, she didn’t have nearly the mental fortitude to endure that, looking away in fear moments later.

    Marco knew he couldn’t help much, but he at least could chime in with a distraction. “^It is best we all take a breath. This is a tense subject, yes, but I see Yaksha’s point. Sage will need to see the truth, as scary and disappointing as it might be. I... I get the allure of wanting to run from something as terrifying as that. I really do. I was in a similar situation yesterday, and so much of me wanted to not face the harrowing truth and instead do horrible actions I would’ve regretted just to be spared that fear. I only pushed through and overcame that barrier at the last moment.^”

    The Gallade looked down at the makeshift table before him, his entire body shaking as he thought back to his confrontation with Olive and continued, “^The awareness that any other day I might’ve done a horrible thing is... haunting. I did the right thing in the end, I’m sure of that, and I hope that we’ll get the most out of the knowledge I brought with me when it comes to finding a safer location to live.^”

    As good as it felt to get baggage this heavy out of his chest, Anne’s expression remained confused, making him paraphrase it. “^We all have to face the truth and not run from it Anne, even when it hurts.^”

    Now that was something Anne could acknowledge—and then turn around, right back at the trio of adults. “~B-But isn’t goading Sage on and not being upfront with her about her family not taking her back exactly this kind of running from the truth?~” she asked, leaning in, heart hammering at the tense discussion. She didn’t want to be arguing about any of this; she wanted to live in a fairytale world where those insane dreams could come true and where the unfortunate ghost girl could rejoin her family as if nothing had happened—but she didn’t.

    None of them did.

    “^But is that the truth?^” Autumn chimed in after a few moments of pondering, deflating Anne.

    The girl didn’t have the strength to argue, not with her words repeatedly falling on what felt like deaf ears. There was no point in continuing this conversation, not with the other side so oblivious—willingly or not—to her main point. Whether it was them being obstinate or her just not getting something, she didn’t know. It sure felt like the former, though.

    With a weak nod, she turned around and headed over to Ember and Sage. Autumn’s and Marco’s worried gazes lingered on her for a while before the trio returned to their mostly silent conversation, getting another dejected sigh out of the human.

    It felt like the adults were lying to them ‘for their happiness’ again.

    Trying to shake off that ugly thought, Anne tried to pay attention to what was going on at the counter. Ember was drinking tea, and... watching something their friend couldn’t quite make out from behind the Braixen’s fluffy, hairy ears.

    Before she could take another step, though, she felt something dragging her by the sleeve straight ahead, looking up to see Sage at the most energetic she had seen her be yet. “~Anne Anne look, they’re knitting!~” the ghost squeaked. “~And they gave us this tea and it’s so sweet and tasty come!~”

    Anne stumbled on as she was half guided, half dragged over to the front of the tea corner, a freshly made cup already waiting for her—

    ...

    Was this Goodra always there?

    Regardless of the answer, seeing Anne be so taken aback at noticing them made the Dragon-type let out a soft, deep laughter that faded into a wide, warm smile. Once they were done laughing, they spoke toward Ember, their sounds a mix of croaks, squeaks, and... very, very wet growls.

    “Vivian says hi, Anne!” Ember giggled, the hiccupy sound quickly melting through Anne’s insecurities. Suppose the least the human could do was return the greeting, smiling as she gave the dragon the biggest wave her good arm could dish out before reaching for her cup of tea.

    To her surprise, Vivian responded to her gesture, Ember paying close attention before translating them to her friend, “They’re saying they’d normally be the one showing you around, but seems it’s not needed with having us all to keep you company, hehe.”

    Not something Anne was sure how to respond to, settling on a warm, only partially forced smile. To her relief, the Goodra got the message and didn’t continue the conversation further, instead picking the knitting needles back up and resuming their current project, a sleeve of sorts. Guess that made sense; the ones on their sweater were quite mismatched—and looked burned in places.

    As interested as Sage was in watching them continue, the older human could only sigh and keep wrestling with the unpleasant topic roiling in her head. A part of her really wanted to tell the truth to the younger girl, to rip the bandaid off while she still was safe and among friends, as opposed to being at her most emotionally vulnerable.

    She didn’t have the strength to do it, and doubted whether either of the three adults did either. Maybe that was the real reason behind them going through this entire pretense. “~I-I hope your mom will be nice to you, Sage...~” she mumbled, distraught.

    The ghostly girl perked up at Anne’s words, hovering right before her with as wide a smile as she could give. “~Of course she will; she’s my mom! She loves me!~”

    Anne envied that confidence. That ability to have this much utter, genuine trust in a family member. Having a mom kind enough for her daughter to be so certain of her acceptance. Anne’s own mother barely accepted her existence—already more than she could say for her father, and even that was only when sober.

    ...

    ...

    Would Aria even want to be called that?

    Anne didn’t know, but she could hope. A wild, unlikely hope, something that wouldn’t do her any good to ponder on—all it’d bring was eventual disappointment. It hurt to think about. Maybe she’d gather the courage to ask those stupid words one day, maybe not. In either case, until then...

    This was some really good tea.
    ​

    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
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    • Chapter 32: Anticipation

    • Chapter 32: Anticipation​


    Who knew there was so much to discuss with such a vague plan?

    Anne’s thirst might’ve only lasted two cups of Vivian’s tea, but the adults’ desire to discuss everything they could in advance lasted way longer. Despite being kept in the loop about what they were talking about, Anne paid less and less attention over time, except for the few occasions where one of the three sent a concrete question her way.

    She barely knew anything more than them about Lillywood specifically, but the much more ineffable experience of just being human sure came in handy, too. Mostly through the simple, vague advice—as long as you look like you know where you’re going, most people won’t bother you too much. Wear Mrs. Graham’s coat to cover yourself with, and maybe a hat to either obscure the crest or disguise it as an accessory.

    The few articles of clothing or accessories she’d seen that were based on the Ralts line were mostly fake Gardevoir masks or wigs, but wearing a fake Gallade crest wasn’t inconceivable, either.

    Stick to the sides of the sidewalks, and only use sidewalks. The easiest way to get singled out as a weirdo or someone who doesn’t belong is to walk on the asphalt—that was just for cars. The associated question of ‘could a Gallade survive a car collision with their strength’ remained unspoken, and—hopefully—undetected. Further tips: street crossings, red and green lights, keeping Sage and Yaksha close to Marco to sell the idea of them being ‘his’ mons.

    The combined advice ought to be enough to get Marco through this without causing a scene. Sure, people would stare at him and the ghosts beside him, but ultimately he’d just come off as a weirdo trainer—a cross-section of the two groups that accounted for at least a third of the latter—but nothing more sinister than that.

    And if need be, Sage could probably advise something on the fly, too.

    With the trio further into the tea corner getting all the advice Anne could think of, the girl withdrew further into her thoughts as her friend chatted with the gooey dragon. As much as she appreciated the idea of the mission to try reuniting the ghost girl with her family, the refusal to consider the most likely outcome of a worst-case scenario kept digging into her conscience.

    She tried hinting at the topic a few times as the adults chatted amongst themselves, her whispers towards the lil’ Phantump accomplishing exactly jack. Sure, she never stated it overtly, but she hoped that her questions about whether her mom would be happy to see her would’ve made something click in Sage’s head. Alas, nothing.

    Nothing but an unerring faith in her parents, the kind that life just cannot resist shattering with all the violence imaginable.

    Anne wished she didn’t have to be the one trying to pick at the younger girl’s hopes, that one of the adults around her acted the part and confronted her about this, but... nobody did. Suppose if the worst comes to pass she’ll hurt a lot, yes, but then she’ll have them all back at the village to recover after that. It was a hope that was equal parts comforting and infuriating; the latter forcing the human to forcibly switch tracks of her train of thought lest it’d explode into the world’s most impotent desk slam.

    She had to go through that; Ember had to go through that—why Sage? She didn’t deserve this; Ember didn’t deserve this. Anne had only managed to extend that thought to herself very few times, but with the anger providing her all the distraction she’d need, today was exactly one such occasion.

    None of them deserved this!

    It was much too late for her and Ember, but it wasn’t for Sage; the girl still had time to be spared from it, but nobody would help her! Maybe nobody could. Maybe nobody was strong enough to plunge that scarring blade deep into the girl’s psyche with the knowledge of how much pain they’d be inflicting. Less than Sage finding out the hard way—much less—but still an immense amount.

    Maybe Yaksha was right.

    Maybe it couldn’t be helped.

    Anne didn’t want to think about this.

    Especially not now, with the several cups of tea only leaving her sleepier than she’d been before. She stretched with her one good arm as she tried to shake off the murky, freezing topic and replace it with something nicer and warmer—such as the firefox beside her. Was that selfish, too?

    Shut the hell up, brain.

    Fortunately for her, the fleshy sponge between her ears was keen to try doing exactly that—if at the price of her dozing off into a full-blown nap. It’s been so many years since she’d had one of those. Way back at her grandma’s place at least, and she grew out of them rather quickly even then. It’d be quite childish, yeah, but she doubted anyone else would mind—

    The heavy, gruff voice came from much closer than she’d expected, flipping over the table all her tired thoughts were being laid out on.

    After Anne’s heart was done calming down from its palpitations, the girl turned to see the source of the intimidating sound for herself, together with her friends. Or, at least, with Ember, Sage having dipped to hide behind her the moment she heard the stranger.

    They had no business walking in as stealthily as they had with their sheer size.

    The Electrivire towered above everything and everyone inside, except for the Goodra behind the counter. And even then, it was a much closer matchup than Anne had expected.

    “Hello, M-Mr. Geiger!” Ember greeted the newcomer, pushing past any residual startle. It calmed her friend by proxy even if it did little to explain who the massive Electric-type was. Before the firefox could answer, though, someone else had decided to greet them first.

    With a blink, Anne found herself staring four eyes to one with a Magnemite from just a few inches away. If not for Sage behind her, she would’ve reeled so hard she fell off the chair, instead limiting herself to ‘just’ gawking at the floating magnet.

    Had they flown any closer to her, they would’ve likely snagged her glasses off her face with their passive magnetism alone.

    As Anne grabbed her bearings, she saw the Electivire go from curiously watching to laughing with his entire body, the sound so much more imposing than she’d have ever expected. Not threatening, not this time, just... loud and clear, the interspersed old man coughs in it included. As he recovered, he tried to speak up again; the almost-human-but-not-quite sounds tingling her brain.

    She’d heard of—and had fallen face-first into a few times—the uncanny valley effect with drawings, but wouldn’t have expected it to also happen with sounds.

    Thankfully, her confusion wouldn’t last for much longer.

    “^There ya go, Anne! My bad Geiger, didn’t spot you stepping in,^” Autumn beamed at the Electivire, Despite the tension in the air, it was hard to not notice the relaxation in her mental voice compared to just a couple hours ago, though Anne had no idea what might’ve caused it. “^How has your morning been~?^”

    The Electric-type nodded deeply at the Indeedee’s words, letting Anne spot the... cap on his head. There was no way it wasn’t human-made, only sparking further questions. Before she could put words to them, though, the freshly introduced Geiger spoke first, “No worries, Autumn~. But—I’ve heard the rumors around the place about Anne being out on a walk and thought I’d check in after yesterday’s... let’s be generous and call it ‘proceedings’.”

    If there had been any more contempt in his voice, it would’ve been oozing down his body.

    “^Hard to deny them being a waste of time, but what’s done is done,^” Autumn concurred, her posture deflating before she straightened herself back up. Sure, it had been a traumatizing nightmare for most involved, but it was over now. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t help anyone right now.

    “At least there’s that. Anyway, hello there, Anne. I’ve heard a fair bit about you, and have been wanting to chat with you for a while now—you alright?” Geiger added the last part after seeing the human’s wide-eyed stare at him and the Magnemite beside him. He didn’t want to presume it was anything more than shock, and thankfully, it turned out to be just that—at least if the girl then slowly calming down was any indication.

    “~G-good morning, Mr.—Mr. Geiger.~” Some of the shock in Anne’s voice was still there, despite her best effort to calm down.

    Must’ve been quite a nervous kid, not that the Electivire could blame her.

    “No need to worry, Anne, I don’t bite. Much.”

    Geiger let out the tiniest sigh of relief as his joke had the desired effect, sending waves of giggles through the two girls and most other patrons. It was enough for the Phantump he’d spotted hiding behind Anne to poke their head out a bit, though he still had no idea who that was or why they were hiding there.

    Even the Magnemite appreciated it with Autumn’s translation, though ‘laughter’ in their case manifested as high-frequency beeping. Not the most noticeable sound in the world, but unique enough to snag the attention of most gathered, sending the little Steel-type hovering back to their safe spot—attached to Geiger’s arm.

    “^Oh, that’s just a little one Aria ran into a while back, Geiger is looking after them. I don’t think they have a name yet, but—^”

    “I’m happy to say that they do now!” Geiger's smile inched that bit wider as he cut Autumn off and brought them the good news, the Indeedee especially curious about the little magnet. Seeing her interest, the Electivire followed up immediately, “Say hello to Sievert, everyone.”

    The name was almost as nonsensical for Anne as it was for everyone else, barring the one time she maybe overheard that word in class. As she tilted her head and tried to figure out what it meant, though, others just shrugged and nodded along. Geiger’s name already made no sense to anyone, they figured he’d only want to give the little one something just as... unique.

    “H-hello Si-Sye-Seevert?” Despite Ember not quite getting the name right, she refused to let that get to her, waving eagerly at the shy magnet.

    Geiger chuckled at the mispronunciation but didn’t comment on it—should’ve seen it coming. Anne and him aside, it’s not like anyone else here knew the human pronunciation of that, anyway.

    As her friend tried to wrangle her maw to get the human sounds just right, Anne was taken aback more and more as she squinted at Geiger’s headgear.

    Her eyes hadn’t deceived her; it was a human cap, one with writing on it no less. The exact shade of white fabric and blue text made it tricky to read from a distance, but it only took one moment of Geiger standing still for her to be confident that she’d read the text right.

    And a lot longer than that for her to gather the courage to speak up afterward.

    “~I-is that a cap from the Amity Cove Power Plant?~”

    It was as if a switch had flipped inside Geiger the very instant she said these words.

    The Electric-type giant went quiet and stared at her with a mix of surprise, admiration, and excitement as he reached up to grab the headgear. It’s been decades since he’d last heard that name, and someone other than his aging mind evoking it sprung a veritable wellspring of memories. Phone calls, briefings, the unending schematics and memos on the wall—but nothing in the past twenty-something years.

    Until now.

    “Indeed, Anne. Do you... do you recognize that place?” Geiger shuddered as he held out the hat for the girl to inspect, a foul idea chilling his mind. The facility had been closed for years now, and both this village and the nearby human towns were miles upon miles away from it...

    Could it have been that she was a child of one of his former coworkers? A grandchild, perhaps—

    “~Yeah! There’s—there’s an urban legend I’ve h-heard about an Electivire having escaped f-from there after breaking in and absorbing all the radiation to g-grow stronger, and I had no idea that it was actually true...~”

    Anne found it difficult to keep on talking once Geiger was laughing loud enough for her to have a hard time hearing anyone else in the tea corner.

    She leaned back at the explosion of sound and amusement, startling her with how sudden it was. With each passing moment, though, more and more of the confusion filling the tent turned into laughter to accompany Geiger’s, though mostly one caused by how unexpected it was to hear him laughing this much. First Autumn, then Vivian, then even Marco and other patrons—and then, finally, Anne too.

    Now that she’d said these rumors out loud, they did sound quite dumb, yeah...

    For a split second, the murky self-consciousness threatened to deceive her into thinking that the Electric-type wasn’t laughing at what she said but at her directly—but it was too slow.

    “Ahahaha, oh the deities, I wasn’t expecting any of that! Thought I’d just get forgotten, hahaha!” Geiger said, resuming his laughter the moment he’d forced the last word out.

    “^Why so? I’d say you’re quite unforgettable, Geiger,^” Autumn smirked. Her tone wasn't missed on Geiger, forcing the absolute slightest blush possible on his yellow-furred cheeks. It wasn’t missed on anyone else around with working ears or mind either, leaving Anne second-guessing herself on if she’d really just heard the elderly Indeedee flirt in the open like that or not.

    “Well, I’m awfully glad you think so, Autumn. But, let me—ahaha—let me explain myself a bit for Anne,” Geiger chuckled and took a deep breath, trying his hardest to keep himself professional before the girl. For better or worse, she wasn’t even paying much attention until he’d said her name, making her gaze instantly snap from the label stitched in blue thread to the mountain of an Electric-type just a few feet away from her.

    He had her attention; now for a brief rundown.

    “I never broke into there, nor did I ever—pfft—nor did I ever try basking in the reactor’s glow, but I did work there for many years. When they closed the facility down, I was meant to be sent to another power plant on the other side of Unova,” Geiger explained, his voice growing calmer and calmer despite the lingering joviality as the bittersweet memories sedated him. “But, thanks to my boss’ intervention, I wasn’t. He helped me get away and reported my ball as missing.”

    Anne gasped quietly at the explanation as she nodded, entranced. Hardly as bombastic as the playground myths and scary stories would have her believe, but even more awe-inspiring because of their truthfulness. “~That’s... I-I didn’t know that was possible.~”

    “Oh, it wasn’t—not according to their rules, at least. I’m sure he got into a bunch of trouble because of that, but... he’s smart. Was smart, I suppose; he’s almost certainly dead by now. Either way, he very much knew what he was getting into. I wish he didn’t have to, but I’ll be thankful to him for the rest of my life.” Geiger grew calmer still, up until the realization of the passage of time. It took him more focus than he thought he still had left in him to just clench his eyes shut and push through the harrowing conclusion without letting the sadness show, but he managed.

    Barely.

    “~That’s—that’s really nice of him.~”

    Anne’s innocence distracted the Electivire from any further sogginess about this topic. That’s right, it really was nice of him, and it was for the best for Geiger to focus on that instead of moping about never getting to see his boss again.

    In the public, at least.

    As hard as he tried to hide his downturn in mood, it was still noticeable for the psychics in the room, and that included even Ember. It wasn’t strong enough for her to diagnose what sparked it, but the fox still felt it, pulling her friend into a tight hug. She also felt the constant unease coming from behind Anne, with the Phantump still too skittish to even try anything but peeking out from time to time.

    Was Sage afraid of Geiger? Regardless of if that was the case, Autumn already seemed to be helping her out—at least if the dim greenish glow holding one of the ghostly girl’s hands was any sign.

    Perfect opportunity for him to bring up a new, lighter topic. “Anyhow! I’ve been curious about a couple of things going on back in the human world for a while, and was wondering if you could help me answer them, Anne.”

    The human girl blinked at the swerve, finding herself listening intently. She didn’t know much, but ‘goings on with humanity at large’ should be something she could at least give a partial answer. “~O-of course! What d-do you want to know, Mr. Geiger?~”

    “First things first—has the Internet become this massive, important invention in the meantime?”

    The entire tea corner was plunged into dumbfounded silence in response, the utterly unknown word sounding like gibberish to all the natives. Even translating it proved tricky for Autumn. It at least seemed to refer to a concept that was present in Anne’s head, even if the Indeedee had no idea where to even begin with understanding it.

    Anne was almost as surprised as everyone else, but for an entirely opposite reason.

    It took her a moment to remember that the Internet wasn’t just a force of nature and that it had been created by humans. She might’ve never had the opportunity to use it personally outside of computer classes, but its spread and influence were impossible to downplay. “~Yes, yes it has!~”

    She considered asking how he knew about it, but she didn’t even have to.

    “A-HA! Knew it; wonder if Jones ever ended up cashing that bet. Oh, suppose an explanation wouldn’t hurt—we had Internet long before civilians ever got their hands on it, and there were always a couple of dopes who swore that it would never amount to anything beyond yet another piece of military tech to be classified and forgotten about.” Thinking back to that time and to the many arguments between his coworkers had Geiger grinning, glad that some of their hunches turned out to be correct.

    “^What’s that ‘Internet’ thing you’re talking about, Geiger?^” Autumn spoke for everyone gathered, their shared confusion downright palpable.

    Geiger turned towards Anne with the most dumbfounded tone most had ever heard him use, the sound unlike him it gave them whiplash. “Oh, it’s... hmm. Good gods, that’s a pickle to explain in simple terms. You got any ideas on how to word it, Anne?”

    “~Uhh... no, I-I don’t think so. I-I guess it’s like a—like a web for exchanging information?~” Anne was only slightly less at a loss for words, and the follow-up question didn’t help any, either.

    “Ohh, is it like telepathy? Or like an actual big spider web?” Ember leaned into her friend as she sought clarification, receiving nothing but meandering ‘uhhh’s in return.

    Not a concept he could ever begin to explain in any comprehensive way at such short notice, but... that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it given enough time. The Electric-type smirked as he glanced over at Autumn, “I mentioned something similar to it with human long-distance communication a couple of days back, but it’s not exactly that. Would need to gather my words first, but... I suppose I’d be willing to go in-depth over something warm together some other day~.”

    It was Autumn’s turn to blush this time, the redness on her cheeks clear to see despite her best efforts. As much as she appreciated that answer—and she appreciated it a lot—there was still one part about it she wanted to change, “^O-oh, I’d love to! Why not today, though? We’ll be heading towards our burrow now; we’d love for you both to come along!^”

    The excitement in her voice had Geiger chuckle as the Magnemite beside him tried withdrawing further away from the crowd. “Thank you for the offer dear, but I think it’s best we keep it until some other day. Last thing I want Anne to deal with after yesterday’s torture session is me looming over her all day long. And Sievert here has had enough crowds for today too, I think.”

    Autumn’s hype palpably faded by the word, but it didn’t take long for Geiger to reignite it all back.

    “I wouldn’t mind trying something tomorrow if you’d be up for it, though~.”

    Immediately, the fastest nodding the Indeedee had ever done in her life, accompanied by a wide smile, shining bright despite how weathered by age her face was. “^Yes, I’d love to!^”

    “That’s settled then! Alright, now just the other question I had on my mind before I let you all go—the sky’s getting ugly outside and I’d hate to keep you all waiting. Anne, would you happen to know what my name means?”

    Ember might have spent the last couple of minutes rolling her eye at how sappy Geiger and Autumn were, but her friend found it nothing but charming. Charming, and surprising—wouldn’t have expected old people to still be interested in... well, that probably counted as dating. She’d only ever associated them with books, cookies, and dead spouses.

    Anne didn’t need Geiger to repeat himself, but wasn’t sure how to answer right away. It was a word she recognized well, but trying to fetch the exact definition out of the half-forgotten depths of her mind proved more challenging than she had thought. She knew he wasn’t expecting the dictionary definition from her, but felt bad about responding with anything less than that.

    Seemed she’d have to, though.

    “~I-I think it has to do with measuring radioactivity. Like there are these Geiger counters that measure it and make cracking noises when they detect it—~”

    “Aaaah, so a dosimeter?” Geiger leaned in as Anne answered his lifelong mystery, his obvious excitement not helping much with keeping her cool.

    Especially since that wasn’t a word she’d recognized at all, and could only hope was the correct answer.

    “~I-I think so, yes,~” Anne answered. To her immediate relief, the Electivire took that response at face value, gaze scanning across the ceiling as he chewed through the revelation.

    Then, he stopped, slowly looked over at the freshly named Sievert attached to his arm,

    And laughed once more, continuing to do so even after he’d given everyone their ‘goodbye’s’ and ‘take care’s’ and left.

    With Geiger taking his leave, Anne’s impromptu group didn’t stick around for much longer, either. Everything the adults had to chat about they already long since had, and the rest would have to be found out on the fly. It wasn’t enough to calm anyone down, especially not Marco—Anne wasn’t familiar enough with Gallade anatomy to know that with absolute certainty, but she could’ve sworn he was much less tense than this when they had arrived—but it was the best they could all hope for.

    And whether it would prove enough, it remained to be seen.

    Much the same was true of the ever-uncertain skies above their heads, to the group’s chagrin.

    The typical wintry off-whites above them were replaced with darker and darker grays, creeping in from all around. It wasn’t raining, not yet, but all the clouds above looked like they were a single whim away from unleashing an absolute downpour over them all. Of liquid water at that, if the warmth in the air was any sign.

    Just about the only time in Anne’s life where she actively wished for the weather to be even colder than it already was.

    Nothing they could do about it—at least without being noticed by nearby human towns—which left them redoubling their pace towards the ‘burrow’ Autumn had mentioned earlier. The choice of words left Anne a bit... uncertain. She doubted she was an all-out claustrophobe or anything, but the idea of sleeping in a narrow cave was profoundly uncomfortable all the same.

    And no, of course, it had nothing to do with her staying up way too late at her grandma’s house one time and watching a documentary about cavers getting trapped underground, of course not!

    In an attempt to distract herself from memories that had stolen somewhere in the mid two-digit number of nights of sleep, Anne diverted her attention to the ghostly girl floating beside her. Sage hadn’t said anything since they left the tea corner, and felt much tenser than before—already a worrisome sight, but her earlier fear didn’t help either.

    Hell, if she could tell the younger girl was afraid of Geiger, then any semblance of subtlety was long since out the window.

    “~Sage?~”

    Ahead of them, Yaksha spared only a briefest glance over his shoulder, but only that. Her half-whisper perked the ghostly girl out of her idle hovering, wooden body shaking as she hovered into the human, holding her hand tight. “~M-mhm? What’s up, Anne?~”

    A fair bit of exhaustion in her voice, but also some anxiety. Suppose she was still young enough to need naps—when she died, at least. Anne had no idea whether needs like that persisted into the afterlife, but Sage offered one argument for that hypothesis.

    “~J-just wanted to ask—did you get scared earlier when Mr. Geiger started talking?~” Anne kept her voice down, anticipating Sage freaking out about her fears having been noticed.

    Instead, the younger girl just nodded idly and explained herself, “~His voice is scary.~”

    It was an answer that explained precious little—but at the same time, just enough for Anne’s mind to get to thinking. Scary voice? Sure, Geiger was imposing like that, but that should’ve faded soon after, it’s not like he was outright shouting at them all the time or something. Something about his voice, then?

    That would explain ‘what’, but not ‘why’, and there Anne was still uncertain—at least until she thought back to Sage’s scared reaction when she heard Marco speak. Not as prominent, but still present before Ember distracted her away. Another piece of the puzzle, but an awkward one. Marco’s and Geiger’s voices were almost nothing alike except for sounding masculine when translated, a mild baritone and a deep bass, respectively.

    Could it have been that?

    No way; Yaksha was with them all the time and he was... hmm. His voice was... not like these two—dryer, more ghostly and distorted, higher pitched, almost like a falsetto. Not enough to trigger that fear, it seemed. Anne hadn’t seen Sage have that fearful reaction to any other voice except for these two, and aside from them being masculine, she couldn’t think of anything they had in common.

    If her hunch was true, then Sage would turn out afraid of Garret, too...

    It was a sad thought, especially with how kind the Grimmsnarl had been towards her. Anne hoped she’d get to see him again in not too long—and Aria too once she felt better, of course.

    Any thoughts about the Dark-type aside, though, her revelation also made the choice of Marco as the two ghosts’ guide into Lillywood... less than advisable. Then again, he was never the first choice and was rather the best option they had on hand, so couldn’t really afford to be picky. Hopefully, Yaksha being there would help her out, too.

    Either way, Sage was getting a big hug here and now, as big as Anne could manage with one arm.

    “~Hehe, that tickles!~” The Phantump giggled, breaking through the group’s silence, adorning it with smiles at her happy, squirmy reaction.

    With the quiet already gone, Autumn took the initiative and walked up to the girls, eying them out with a wide, tired smile. “^How are you doing, girls?^”

    “~I’m okay, Mrs. Autumn!~” Despite her earlier gloom, Sage had no difficulties getting back to her usual excited self. Sure, the Electrivire had scared her a bit, but she’d still be going home in just a few hours!

    The Indeedee’s smile strained, but just barely held at feeling that thought.

    “^Yup! Really hope the weather won’t get any worse until then, already looking quite dreadful. Ugh, snow’s gonna start melting overnight, won’t it...?^”

    As Autumn shuddered at the idea of having to wade in freezing slush for the next few days, Marco’s thoughts about skies turning dark went the other way. Sure, it’d be ugly, but maybe it’d be for the best?

    The Gallade took a large breath as he tried to relax his posture, looking down at the older girl and speaking up, “^Anne. Do you think it would help us avoid attention if it snowed or rained today?^”

    Anne blinked at a question this... obvious, but didn’t mind answering it. She supposed it made some sense, after all.

    “~Well, it’d be cold and nasty for you all, b-but yeah. Nobody’s gonna be leaving their houses if it’s this cold and raining, even with an umbrella. And...~” she paused and counted the past few days with the information the Blissey at the clinic gave her, the best possible conclusion perking her up a bit. “~And it’s Sunday today too, so even fewer people are gonna be out after dark!~”

    “~It’s Sunday today?~” Sage tilted her head at her friend’s words, staring in unexpectedly genuine confusion.

    Anne double-checked her count just to be sure—and sure enough, she got it right the first time. “~Yeah, it’s Sunday, Sage.~”

    “~I thought it was Friday.~”

    Sage’s perfectly deadpan delivery left Anne waiting for a follow-up, either the punchline of a joke or reasoning for it not being Sunday. Instead, the two just stared at each other for a while, the silence growing oppressively awkward in a matter of seconds. Soon enough, the older girl couldn’t bear it anymore, speaking up just to clear the air, “~Why?~”

    “~I don’t know.~”

    ...

    Oh.

    “^What’s a ‘Sunday’?^” Autumn butted in, trying to help with the uneasy tension in the air. Satisfying her curiosity about some more human terms was a welcome bonus.

    “~It’s a day of the week, M-Mrs. Autumn!” Sage chimed in to explain, entirely undeterred by the previous awkwardness. She clarified exactly nothing.

    Anne was about to try giving her own, much more comprehensive answer before something caught her attention from the nearby rooftop. Or rather, someone, the familiar cooing making her gaze jump up to meet Blossom’s, smiles filling both their faces. Before the human could greet the lil’ owl, the latter took off from her post and flew down. To her immediate regret, there didn’t seem to be anywhere to perch on that was anywhere close to Anne’s eye level; the awful freezing snow aside.

    Which left option B.

    “Hi, Anne! Oh my gosh, are you gonna be staying here for good!?” Blossom delivered her chirps with all the excitement she could produce, amplified further by perching on Marco’s silvery crest to his unamused stare.

    Marco persevered—anything to keep the little ones happy, especially with him sensing the Dartrix’s internal conflict about where to land—but only barely. Anne was unsure how to respond without breaking into a rude laughter at his expense.

    Thankfully, Autumn had her covered, “^Yes sweetie, Anne is staying with us! Elders decided on that yesterday.^”

    Blossom nodded with all the excitement of a child finally being in on the big events going on in the world around her for the first time in her life. “Yes, I saw! I even tried to listen in, but couldn’t hear anything!”

    Marco kept himself from speaking up, but that didn’t extend to not facepalming out of Blossom’s field of view.

    “^Sweetie, you’re not supposed to eavesdrop, these are meant to be confidential,^” Autumn explained, biting her tongue to not laugh out at her son-in-law’s reaction. To some extent, she felt much the same, but was much more keen on helping the girl's confusion—even if it was about matters she thought self-explanatory.

    And then, Anne looked over her shoulder to check the loud buzzing coming from nearby and gasped, drawing the others’ attention immediately.

    As scary as it was for Anne to suddenly see a Vespiquen behind her from less than a foot away, the rest of the group felt a gradient of emotions spanning from uncertainty to unamusement. Autumn took it upon herself to present the latter, glaring at the Bug-type. “^Hello, Liz.^”

    The words were enough to interrupt the Vespiquen’s current routine—namely, measuring Anne from all around using a string with a bunch of knots on it, calculating values unknown and unknowable. With her focus broken, it was Liz’s turn to stare with disapproval at Autumn, only adding to the latter’s annoyance.

    The Indeedee didn’t want to be the one to renege first, but she knew that if not for that, this staring contest would last forever.

    “^Liz, maybe you could introduce yourself to Anne instead of sneaking up on her,^” Autumn forced out. The deadpan flatness in her voice wasn’t any more difficult to make out for Anne than for its intended recipient, eliciting the most monotone buzz the human girl had ever heard.

    It didn’t help any with her confusion, but the introduction that followed did, at least. “Liz. Quartermaster. I keep track of our resource utilization and production. Need to take count of your size and how much food you’re going to eat. May I continue now?” The Vespiquen strained her words, aiming them squarely at Autumn. It almost made the Indeedee snap back with something, but she kept her snark contained.

    This time.

    “^Yes you may, Liz. Just please explain with words if you need Anne to do something for you—^”

    “Stand still. Back straight. Limbs straight along your body,” Liz ordered, wasting no time for courtesy as she continued with her measuring string and grooves on her horns. At least; before she noticed Autumn’s brown eyes drilling into her once more. “...Please.”

    About the most Autumn—or anyone else—could expect from the Vespiquen, she supposed.

    The Indeedee sighed as she reached a paw to rub along the bridge of her short snout. If nothing else, Liz was good with doing all the number crunching she had to do once and not bothering people about that afterward until strictly needed.

    Anne seemed to be taking it well, too—past the initial shock, at least. It was amusing to keep track of her thoughts at being scanned so closely, bringing forth mental images of various measuring devices, many of them transparent, somehow, and... other humans with the same eye coverings as she had, but much larger, combined with buck teeth.

    Taken together, human weirdness probably outdid Liz’s quirks—

    RUMBLE...

    The distant thunder startled everyone but the diligent quartermaster, sending shivers down Anne’s body. Autumn just sighed. Sure enough, the weather looked like it would be unpleasant later today. Hopefully, the human clothes Anne had in mind for Marco would help with that a bit.

    Oh, speaking of.

    “^Oh, Marco, before we forget and the rain comes down on us! Could you take the rest of Anne’s items from the clinic and move them to our burrow?^” Autumn turned on a heel towards her son-in-law, finding him comfortably Blossom-less and looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

    “^All of them, or specific—^”

    Before he could even finish, Autumn cut him off by shaking her head. She explained soon after, aiming her words at him and Anne in equal measure, “^Everything. She’s gonna be staying with us there, after all.^”

    Marco nodded, Sage tilted her head, Ember gasped in joy, Yaksha didn’t react, Liz jotted the piece of data down deep inside her insect brain, and Anne... looked at Autumn with uncertainty. The bespoke ‘burrow’ was more than just today’s destination then, leaving her unnerved.

    With how neat the rest of the village was, she really hoped the family dwelling would follow suit. Both because of how uncomfortable narrow spaces made her, and because she’d hate to be an even bigger burden than she already had been from the get-go in forcing them to change the burrow to accommodate her...

    The Fighting-type caught himself right before he was about to head out, an important thought sparking under his skullcap. “^What if she’ll need the healers to take another look at her later today?^”

    “^Ah, good call! Ask about that too while you’re there, fingers crossed you’ll be good for the day Anne—last thing we want is for you to have to trudge through the slush that’s coming just to get another bandage check,^” Autumn chuckled at the mental image as the human girl shuddered. Ember wasted no time helping her friend with any shaking, be it fear or cold-induced, while Marco finally headed out, leaving the group one member lighter for the time being.

    A part of Anne wondered what in the world was the Vespiquen still doing with her. Surely she would’ve already gotten everything—

    “Is this your final shape, human?” Liz buzzed the question out, not pausing her measuring even for a second.

    “^Anne,^” Autumn corrected.

    “Akhne.”

    The human cared about her name being butchered much less than she did about the confusing question she had been asked moments prior. “~Umm... w-what do you mean by that?~”

    “Will you change in shape or size, be it by evolution or some other process, over the next five years?” The Vespiquen enunciated; the gesture both noticed and appreciated by Anne.

    Guess this ‘quartermaster’ could explain herself if she really wanted to.

    “~I-I will grow by a few inches—~”

    “Show,” Liz instructed, paying close attention to what the girl did afterwards. It felt weird to have so much focus be on her shaking hand of all things, but Anne pushed on regardless, raising it until it lay flat at what she hoped was 5'1". As close an estimate as she could make with her only reference point being her mother’s and grandma’s heights—hopefully the exact value wouldn’t matter since she was just predicting the future, anyway.

    And with her growth spurt coming any day now, Liz would be able to see it for herself.

    “^Oh? With how tall you already are, I didn’t think you got any more height left in you, Anne,^” Autumn said with mild, but genuine surprise. It made her wonder how big would the tallest humans be if even the girl beside her towered over almost all of them. Even if much of their size was not as impressive as it would’ve otherwise been with them being so thin, it still left quite an impact—

    ...

    The Indeedee shuddered with her entire body at sensing the nearby aura move so suddenly and intensely, mind and eyes alike turning to look at what had happened. Ember followed soon after, gasping once she’d connected all the pieces together in her head and clinging closer to her friend.

    Anne wasn’t far behind either—but she was much more confused than the other two.

    Cinder showing herself again was appreciated just for the sake of Anne knowing where the vixen she still had a hard time trusting was, but the rest of the scene raised more questions than it answered. In front of the Fire-type stood an Espurr, barely visible from the other end of the street in the for-them-waist-high snow. They were facing her, surrounded by Cinder’s psychic glow. Nothing was happening, but with how tense Autumn and Ember had gotten at the sight, Anne wasn’t sure if she wanted to think about what ‘should’ have happened instead...

    Her head was confused, but her legs screamed for her to run.

    Before the situation could grow any more anxious, someone else showed up, diffusing much of the built-up tension. Anne couldn’t quite recognize them right away—the body was quite like the blue Meowstic, which gender that corresponded to lost in the recesses of her mind, but ears weren’t. They looked brown, as if they were—

    ...

    Oh shit, they were wooden.

    Were these prosthetics? Had they lost their ears at some point because of some scrap with wild mons? Did—oh gods, did a human do that to them? Anne remembered hearing in one newspaper or another about dumb people still occasionally doing that nowadays despite it being pretty blatant cruelty.

    Regardless of what had happened for them to end up this way, they were scolding the absolute ears off of what was presumably their child. The latter was no slouch though, the two of them first talking, and then shouting at each other in what felt like a downpour of ever more emotional meows.

    And then; the Meowstic stopped and turned to face her.

    As unnerving as seeing the Espurr facing her was earlier, their parent came off very differently. Ears down, much more relaxed posture, willingness to take a couple of steps closer in a way that felt hesitant, but not angry or hateful.

    Anne still had no idea what was going on, but figured she could at least greet them.

    Her eyes jumped back and forth between the Meowstic and the Espurr as she waved at the former. They shuddered at her gesture, taking her briefly aback, before… returning it themselves with a shaky paw.

    Hopefully, a good sign.

    Either way, once they were satisfied greeting her, they turned around to Cinder and their child and meowed a couple more words. Anne had no idea what she expected to happen next, but the psychic kitten being lifted into the air, still fully enveloped with the firefox’s reddish aura, and hovered around the corner before the other two followed wasn’t it.

    Unnerving, but ultimately just—Autumn?

    Even once the cats and the fox were done, the Indeedee kept staring daggers into the spot they had just departed from. Her expression was angrier than Anne had ever seen it, much angrier. On her other side, Ember looked unnerved, her embrace having grown so tight in the meantime Anne wondered how in the world did she not feel it earlier.

    The Vespiquen had left at some point, presumably to get away from the growing tension and to drown her annoyances in Vivian’s brandy.

    “~What happened?~” Anne asked nervously, her mind suggesting more and more harrowing possibilities. Was it just a family argument, or—or did that Espurr despise her, and she was almost attacked in broad daylight with company around her? The latter sounded both too scary and too silly to be true; there’s no way that someone would’ve tried that, but if not that then—

    “Oh deeeear. Baaaaad moooment?”

    Anne had no idea it was possible for a voice this soft and old to startle so many people all at once.

    Once she and the two psychics beside her had finished getting over their startles, they turned around to face the Grass-type. Anne’s eyes went wide at seeing a Lilligant just hanging out here, head full of memories of watching beauty pageants on TV with her grandma featuring their kin—among others. And her flower was in full bloom too, something even professionals fumbled from time to time.

    ...

    Guess actually being free and among friends helped a lot in minimizing stress, huh? And the cloak over her body helped with the cold as well, held tightly shut with one leafy hand.

    “^Oh Lavender, hello there. No, it’s—it’s not a bad moment, don’t worry. Did something happen?^” Autumn asked, tension and active attempts to get rid of it oozing through her mental voice.

    “I wrapped up the shaaaawl you asked fooor, aaaand wanted to deliver it to the giiiirl herself!” The Grass-type turned to face Anne, her almost-invisible smile growing wide. Her free hand unwrapped what the human thought to be a part of her cape.

    It wasn’t exactly the same, not with being so leafy and dry, but... her voice was quite similar to grandma Lisa’s. Anne didn’t know why that realization struck her; it wasn’t relevant, but... it still made her feel just that bit warmer.

    And if the sheer amount of knitted cloth being unwrapped from around Lavender was any sign, she’d end up much more than just a bit warmer, soon. By the time the Grass-type was done grabbing it all, it looked the size of a blanket; the all-natural fabric stained with a gradient from bright greens to dark oranges. For a few moments, Anne could only stare at it, uncertain what all this was about—

    Only for Ember’s giggle to clarify it all, “Hehehe, she made it for you, Anne!”

    “Indeeeeed!” Lavender stressed her follow-up, holding the bundled fabric up even higher and giving it a little wave.

    Anne stared wide-eyed at the gift as her mind spun in a circle, left dumbfounded about how to respond. It was one thing to be told that this presumed article of clothing, this product of so much labor, was for her—and another still for that fact to really sink in. She’d only been here for a few days; there was no way anyone would just decide to gift her stuff on a whim, not something this special!

    “^But that’s exactly what she did, Anne!^” The Braixen whispered, holding her friend even closer.

    Ember’s mental whisper only added further fuel for the fire of emotions thrashing in Anne’s mind. It also emboldened her enough to finally reach out and grab the knitted bundle, Autumn’s psychic intervention helping her spread it wide and get a better look at what it was.

    A large, colorful shawl, sized for her. Made for her. The first article of clothing made with any amount of care for her in almost three years.

    With her left arm immobile and folded under her sweater, Anne had to be helped with putting it on, something both psychics were more than glad to assist with as much as they could. Soft, and comfortably weighed, and pleasant to the touch, and warm, and...

    A-and...

    Anne’s sniffles took the rest of the group aback as they all awaited a reaction, Lavender most of all. The Grass-type was about to speak up, immediately fretting that she’d unknowingly made a mistake with the sizing—

    Only to be pulled into a one-armed hug before she could respond.

    Her legs might’ve screamed at her for crouching and half her body still ached. But none of that mattered, none of it could. Anne had to thank this villager, this—this total stranger for her generosity, and this was the only way she could do it beyond just idle words.

    “~Th-th—sniff—thank you...~”

    Thankfully, Lavender took it well.

    “Awwwwwww, sweeeeeetie! You’re veeeery welcome! Do you liiiike it?” Lavender beamed as she returned the hug with all the strength her aged body could provide, appreciating Anne’s body warmth immensely.

    “~I-it’s p-perfect, I can’t thank you enough—~”

    Immediately, the Lilligant shook her head, the petals of her flower flapping against Anne’s face. “Allll is goooood! I’m glaaaaaad you liiiike it, and that youuuuuu’re here!”

    To Anne’s surprise, she believed Lavender’s words.

    As the human girl let go of the seamstress before being helped back to her feet by her friend, the Indeedee chimed in, realizing one part that didn’t quite add up. “^How’d you find us here, Lavender?^”

    The Lilligant perked up at her before softly laughing, orange eyes scanning the roofs of the nearby buildings. “Ohhhh, Sol had tipped meeee off! Heeeee’s beeeeeen watching oveeeeeer youuuu for a whiiiile nooow! Sooooool! Where aaaaare youuuu!?”

    As Autumn narrowed her eyes and looked around, she caught a white and brown blur in her peripheral vision, psychics focusing in an instant. The Whimsicott was much too fast for her to grab directly, but nothing an artificial gust of wind couldn’t help with. With an instantaneous green flare, the wind-veiled Fairy-type was tossed against the wall he was flying next to, before harmlessly bouncing off it and falling into the snow.

    That’s what you get for following us.

    “Sol? Soooooool, quit foooooling around, silly!” Lavender chided with a disapproving shake. As she headed off to check up on the snow-diving Whimsicott in the distance, the group got going again.

    Much to the gratitude of Anne’s strained legs, they were already on the final stretch, their destination only a couple turns away.

    And once they’d made the last one, a clearing in front of a hill awaited them.

    Its sheer size alone was enough to make it stick out of its barren surroundings. The towering oak growing from its tip towered over all other nearby trees, downright radiant in the orange light of the looming sunset, even without any leaves to grace it. For a while, Anne thought it was just a local landmark, denoting the edge of the village.

    And then; she spotted the doorway embedded into the side of the hill; and realized Autumn was leading them there.

    “~I-is that the burrow you had mentioned?~” Anne whispered, excitement seeping into her voice despite her earlier worries. The fantasy she’d been imagining on and off for the last few days suddenly became terrifyingly real. It was one thing to be abstractly told that she would stay in this magical wonderland village while she lay waking up in her bed,

    “^Yes Anne, yes it is!^”

    It was another to be at Aria’s doorstep.

    Her pace slowed with every step as she approached the front door in a mix of exhaustion and emotion. Ember was doing her best to support her through both, snuggling by her side throughout the ordeal. As barren and downright miserly as the burrow’s entrance was, the warm, orange light pouring in through the gaps between the door and the frame it sat in betrayed its homeliness, growing clearer and clearer to see as the sun set around them.

    And then, before she knew it, Anne stood right before it.

    Sage and Yaksha watched, confused, as the human girl just stood there for a while, quivering in place. The Phantump wanted to ask what was wrong, and the Banette was of half a mind to push past the dumb child and just walk in there himself, but neither of them acted.

    knock knock, knock

    They didn’t need to.

    crooaaaaaaaak

    Anne was home.​


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
    Last edited:
    • Interlude IX: Hatred & Interlude X: Drifter

    • Interlude IX: Hatred​


    How could they have done this!?

    Hawthorne breathed through gritted teeth as she made her way through the village, the anger gripping her body not letting her internalize anything from the Serperior’s lesson she had just received. Yet another repetition of protective moves didn’t matter, couldn’t matter.

    Not when the Elders had put everyone here at such a risk.

    The Espurr’s thrashing aura left gashes in the loose snow around her as she tried not to scream. It was one thing for them all to allow THAT THING to live, but—THIS!? They let IT stay here and keep hurting them all; how—how—

    HOW COULD THEY!?

    Her paws gripped the sides of her forehead. The extended claws drew the tiniest bit of blood as she stared into the muddy snow in front of her, straining all that was left of her composure. She’d never even come close to losing it in her life, but. But THAT THING was here now, putting them all at risk, able and willing to hurt them all, especially her dad!

    Her dad was lying to her, too. The thought thawed her from her almost-outburst, getting her going again through tears. She hadn’t been up for that long; the sun wasn’t even close to setting yet, but she still felt exhausted. By the BETRAYAL, by her concerns being dismissed, by being so angry about it all and yet unable to do anything about it.

    The one person she expected to stand up for her, or even for himself, didn’t.

    It baffled her more than anything else, baffled and infuriated. He’d told her what THESE THINGS had put him through, how much THEY had hurt him, but he kept trying to downplay it now. She remembered his tears, his pain, every single night when she’d wake up only to see him wide awake, shaking beside the hearth.

    But apparently, none of that mattered now! All it took was the Elders saying a word, and he bent to their whims and pretended nothing had happened! That one of THESE THINGS hadn’t scarred him in mind and body, that IT hadn’t trapped him and kept him as a pet for years,

    That THEY weren’t all MONSTERS.

    She wasn’t sure which hurt her more, the lies or the betrayal. All the Espurr knew was that she hurt, and she didn’t want to be hurting. She just wanted to be safe. And for them all to be safe too, especially her dad.

    Maybe it wasn’t too late?

    Freezing tears stung through her fur as Hawthorne perked up and upped her pace. It couldn’t have been too late; the Elders had only made their mistake last night. And ARIA must’ve influenced them, too! Yes, of course, it all made sense now!

    She just had to shake sense into her dad, had to use her meager psychics to break him from that EVIL GARDEVOIR’S control, and make them all safe again! It would be difficult, but she could do it; everyone depended on her! She would be the hero; they’d all thank her, praise her and be sorry for all the times they dismissed her concerns, especially Autumn—

    kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill THAT THING was here. kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

    Hawthorne stared down the street, pink eyes only able to focus on HER TARGET. She knew she had no chance against everyone standing beside IT, not all taken together, but it didn’t matter. Just had to strike when Autumn and Marco were distracted; before that wimp—no, that TRAITOR Ember could react.

    Nobody else mattered, nobody else could stop her.

    kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill It was time. kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

    Her eyes lit up with a flare as she raised her ears. Aura thrashed in her mental grasp, pushed so far beyond its usual intensity she could only barely control it. Didn’t matter. THESE THINGS were pathetic, all she had to do was get one good hit while IT was distracted, break IT in half. She could do it, she’d be a hero, she’d rid them all of this MONSTER, make them all safe—

    die die die DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

    !!!​

    Her aura tried to jolt forward, to maim THAT THING where IT stood, but it couldn’t, forcibly held still. It hurt, so intense a gasp of pain caught in her throat as she strained against whatever force was keeping her bound—

    “^Don’t.^”​

    Cinder’s voice filled her mind, a simple command amplified to deafening volume by the intensity of their combined psychics. Had Hawthorne any more control of herself, she would’ve screamed in fear and ran off—but couldn’t, the Delphox’s mental grasp holding her like a vice. The Espurr shrieked, pushing through her turbulent aura, “^LET ME GO!^”

    The firefox didn’t answer. Instead, the kitten felt her built-up energy slowly dissolve, defusing her almost-attack. It hurt less, but it also meant she wouldn’t be able to attack IT anymore, making Hawthorne thrash even harder in her teacher’s unassailable aura. As she was about to cry out to be let go once more, though, she heard another voice, one that made her freeze in something worse than fear.

    “Hawthorne!” Max cried out, aghast at what he’d just ran into. “What—what are you doing...”

    His daughter kept thrashing in Cinder’s grasp to no use, soon crying out, “^Protecting you!^”

    The scene was overwhelming for the Meowstic, both in the intensity of the psychic auras being wielded against one another, in there being a human just a few dozen feet away, and in how much malice dripped from his daughter. She didn’t even make any sense! “What—what do you mean, we are safe!”

    “^But there’s a HUMAN in the village and it will hurt you and everyone else is too afraid to do anything about it!^” Hawthorne shrieked through more and more tears, her fear as genuine as can be. “^ARIA poisoned your mind, I know it, the elders’ too, we need to kill IT before IT hurts us all—^”

    “HAWTHORNE!” her dad cried, trying the only thing he could to cut his daughter’s terrible words off.

    “^DAD PLEASE, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE SOMEWHERE!^”

    “HAWTHORNE! I BEG YOU, STOP!” Max pleaded, stopping the Espurr’s rambling for but a moment. “WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME!?”

    “^B-because THESE THINGS hurt you! THEY will hurt you again if we let them—^”

    “And is your way of keeping us safe hurting them back!?”

    Hawthorne stared at him, terrified and confused, “^What else!?^”

    “Wouldn’t they have an excuse to hurt us too then!? And so on and so on; bloodshed solves nothing! HATRED SOLVES NOTHING!” He cried out, wounds in his mind clawed open once more. His daughter tried to speak up once more, but he continued first, “No, Hawthorne! I am hurt, it hurts so much, but it is MY pain to bear! I’m so sorry I’ve exposed you to so much more of it than I should have. I—I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.”

    Max’s paws gripped his temples as his tears peppered the snow and dirt below him. He didn’t want to do any of this; he didn’t want to be anywhere near a human any more than his daughter did, but he had to. All this was his fault; he had to make up for what he had done in whatever way he could.

    “Please, understand, this human is a child! She’s just like you, she’s done nothing wrong!” He begged, heart racing as he turned toward the girl his daughter hated so much. He took a step closer, then another, using all his courage to not run away, and continued, “She—she just wants to be safe, just like us. Keep your wrath for those that actually hurt us, be they humans or our fellow mons, I beg you...”

    As Max was about to turn back towards the Espurr, he noticed the human move. He didn’t want to be here, to see them, but if it meant they’d be safe, if it meant his daughter might ever heal from all the ways he’d unintentionally hurt her, then he’d bear through this. He lifted his paw and returned Anne’s waves, only barely keeping the fight-or-flight response at bay.

    “I’m sorry, Hawthorne.”

    After catching his breath, he looked up at the stone-faced Delphox, keeping his gaze away from his weeping, rage-filled daughter. He asked, “Cinder, could you carry her to our dwelling?”

    The firefox answered wordlessly, levitating the thrashing Espurr around the corner before following in tow. As he watched them leave and eventually followed in their steps, the Meowstic feared.

    Feared that just like his physical wounds, his daughter’s mental scars would never heal.


    Interlude X: Drifter​


    “shhhh—ou know what it is, just an afternoon with my wife!”

    The roar of canned laughter floods the living room before giving way to harsh hissing once more. Above it, the black-and-white image of a talk show grows blurry as static devours it, erasing whatever meaning it still had. A few moments later, the broadcast fights back, pushing through the noise and distortion, yearning to be seen for just one more moment.

    But nobody is watching.

    The television’s pale glow pierces the muffled darkness of the living room, brought on by the thick blinds obscuring every window in sight. All one needs to bring the space back to life is to stand up and walk these few feet, to grasp the grimy cords.

    But it is too late.

    In front of the TV set rests a well-worn armchair, its once blue fabric covered with stains the color of dirt, blood and pus. On it, a mound of cloth and sludge, a pile of regret and decay, what was once a person wrapped tight in what was once a blanket. Around it, empty plastic wrappers and glass bottles, their contents long forgotten and devoured—first by their owner, then by microorganisms decomposing them.

    What remains of the human’s head keeps staring at the device before it, the receiver’s light illuminating the many shades of decay covering the skin. Sometimes, it twitches just a bit as another patch of sinew holding it together turns into mush. Aside from that, there is no motion in the room, no change.

    Not in days.

    Not in years.

    knock knock knock​

    The muffled sound eclipses the TV static despite being so much quieter, stirring flakes of dust from the garbage strewn across every flat surface. For the first time in weeks, there is a shift in the putrid air, beyond the miasma of death and waste growing ever more intense. Tension rises in the motionless space, begging for the external influence to leave it be, to let it decay into nothingness evermore.

    But it won’t.

    knock knock knock​

    Another three strikes against the front door, its mechanism long since half-devoured by corrosion. Soon after, a pair of muffled voices outside, chatting with each other, and a low, animalistic growl, their intricacies falling on the abandoned house’s deaf ears. The world demands presence, the pile of decomposing flesh demands closure.

    At last, motion.

    A grayish hand phases through the stained, crusty blanket enveloping the corpse, and another one follows moments later. After it comes one leg, then the other, with only the inanimate TV set to witness their appearance. The half-formed, immaterial entity shudders and stops; it wants to go no further. No thoughts grace it, no memories—only the emotions that used to comprise them.

    Hatred.

    Guilt.

    Regret.

    knock knock knock​

    And yet, What Is must continue its crawl, to depart the cocoon of What Was and What Will Never Be. The quietest of metallic jingles fill the air as its head pushes through, freeing the rest of itself from the once-body that once held it. It falls from the armchair onto the trash-covered floor; the digging of shards of plastic and glass into its woven skin overlooked in the horror of steadily building consciousness.

    And then; it opens its eyes.

    Their dim, pink glow sweeps the room, taking in hundreds of objects it used to know but doesn’t. It stares but does not see, the decomposing environment around it reduced to naught but visual noise and an incomprehensible blur of shapes, all bathed in shadows.

    At last, it turns to look up at the seat it had just crawled out of, at what remained of what it once was, of what he once was.

    He feels nothing. Not yet.

    knock knock knock, “~Mr. Armstrong?~”​

    The muffled sounds come together into words, understood and yet incoherent. Name he recognizes or not, someone’s still knocking on the door. The ghost’s body turns towards the house’s front door and takes the first step of many, driven by subconscious impulses long erased. Each little movement disturbs the mounds of trash and grime, sending clouds of dust floating into the air.

    He’s too focused to notice, too stunned by his own sudden existence.

    One step, another, finally out of arm’s reach of the padded seat. To his left, a book sprawled open on top of the mound of junk, its contents all but forgotten to his conscious mind despite the title on the cover remaining legible. Something about an encyclopedia, something about spirits.

    The sight to his right takes too much of his attention for him to even try thinking about it.

    A chair lying on the floor bent and discarded. Beside it, a small desk, its surface covered with envelopes. A few still sealed, many opened and disemboweled. Some of their contents lie in a heap behind the desk, crumpled and torn. Some in a pile off to the side, sodden with tears and blood.

    And in the center, the letters never sent, the words forever unsaid.

    knock knock knock, “~Mr. Armstrong, this is the Mistralton Police Department. Are you there?~”​

    At last, the sound distracts the ghost away from the piles of letters. He resumes his journey through the dead building, taking in the sights one after another. On the wall to his right, political paraphernalia for the last few elections, their bold slogans ringing hollow amidst the decay. An unending chant with a different refrain each time, a different group to blame for the woes of the world and the economy. Unionists, immigrants, queers, pagans, women, racial minorities.

    Who it was, it mattered not—as long as there was someone to hate, to channel one’s anger towards.

    Beneath each slogan, a photo of the associated candidate, drilling into him with their hollow smiles. Into his eyes, into his mind, uncovering the half-digested flashes of him walking along with them, of offering them his unconditional faith and support, the power of all the resentment his weary body could fit.

    And then; came consequences.

    His spectral legs keep wading through trash, each step easier and easier once he finally turns the corner into the atrium. Fewer wrappers and discarded food here, more boxes and heaps of unopened letters. In the distance, his destination. He can’t make out much from behind the frosted glass, just a couple of dark blobs against the light gray background. They shift from side to side, turn to each other, sometimes even walk away for a moment or two, before inevitably approaching the front again.

    knock knock knock, “~Mr. Armstrong, your daughter called us to perform a wellness check. Are you there, Mr. Armstrong?~”​

    The words freeze him in place, one of them in particular. His eyes unfocus as he stares at the mound of envelopes in front of the door, the awareness of what some of them are desperately trying to claw at his mind. He keeps it at bay, just barely, and pushes on.

    His body needs no air, and yet his breaths deepen with every step. The reality of where and what he is starts creeping up on him, made terrifying by the little he knows, and especially by everything he doesn’t, not anymore. With utmost focus, he resists looking just to the right, to the wall covered with rectangular patches of discoloration, and to the one photo that still hangs there.

    A picture of a woman rests askew in its frame. Hastily put together after being torn, enveloped in a web of creases, in damage from being first crumpled and tossed and then dug up in panic from a trash bin. Behind it, obscured, is a photo of a boy, once displayed as a matter of fact, then out of hateful spite.

    Nobody else is left.

    Nobody.

    Nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody He stands before the door, up to his waist in letters. Too short to reach the peephole, but he does so anyway. Before he knows it, his pink eye is level with it, trying desperately to focus on the bright image. Two men in police uniforms looking around bored and checking the time, and an Absol behind them.

    Suddenly, the latter turns to stare straight at him, and catches the humans’ attention. They sigh in relief and turn to face him, offering weary, uncertain smiles and as professional a voice as they still can.

    “~Mr. Armstrong, there you are! This is the Mistralton Police Department. Your daughter called us to perform a wellness check—could you open the door, Mr. Armstrong?~”

    His arm reaches down without even thinking as his head pounds to the rhythm of a long-dead heart. He hurts, it hurts; what is he; where is he; why is he here—

    The rusted metal attached to the handle creaks, and the door skews open, carrying with it the reek trapped within. One breath later, it hits the two men outside, sending them dry heaving as they back off; eyes bulge as they look up into the house.

    Inside, a feral Banette.

    The Absol knows what they have to do, pushing past their humans and their disgust alike as their horn flickers with pitch-black energy. The ghost’s terrified wail fills the decrepit building as they turn to run away—through the trash, through the walls, through the miles of suburbia.

    And then, many hours later, he stops. Around him, darkness. Of the woods, of the night.

    Of a world that is no longer his home.​


    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!​
     
    Last edited:

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