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Thread Description
[2020-10-17] Chapter Eighteen: girl in the process of losing all hope loses last additional bit of hope she didn't even know she had

Whozawhatcha

i have too many projects
Pokédex No.
486
Caught
Jul 12, 2019
Messages
484
Nature
Lonely
Pokémon Type
Fire, Flying
so uh, i don't know where to begin.

first i guess: i think you could have split the chapter right where you split them? though i suppose most of the action was stuffed in the second half. (timey wimey bullshit) I'll have you know you said "flame like shadows with blue eyes" and i thought, Darkrai? and then it WAS and I'm so fucking pleased, what a shitty fucking spooker. (Also, I have vague theories on who is confronting the Darkrai, given your......extremely obtuse references to things for me.)

Allliums? Why alliums.

Second off, the bat better come back with Lucian in the future recognizing Minty's ass, hello, I'm very interested to see where LUCIAN ends up in your fic, he's probably my favorite Sinnoh Elite Four member. Other than like, Cynthia. Also fascinating to see everything starting to come to a head. Like, before it felt like we were just getting to know our characters and the world at large, now it feels like you're starting to get into the MEAT of things. I know you've been sitting on "psychic powers" for a long time and I'm very, very intrigued to see how you do the rest, because the descriptions of a world like shattered glass were EXCELLENT. That being said, this was a hefty chapter with all the breaks, even for a gal who's done 10k chapters, whew.

Anyways. Love me some Darkrai. Wanna know what you're doing with Cresslia, I feel like I should've paid more attention to any moon/moonlight descriptions. Portals closing and snapping people in half? stop looking at my notes, damn it. (Also, I'm pretty sure I know who she's referencing by virtue of your obtuse hints, but not certain.) You "killed" or at least shafted my favorite pokemon, so I guess that just means I gotta get you attached to pokemon in CHHW and stab you back for that. Next chapter is going to be WILD with dialogue, I tell you what, I'm here for the inevitable meltdown of them all.
 

Wwarborday

Gradually Becoming Productive
Pokédex No.
153
Caught
Jun 28, 2019
Messages
187
Location
Gaytown
Nature
Sassy
Pronouns
He/him/his
Pokémon Type
Ground, Ice
Pokédex Entry
I'm Doing My Best
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 

localhoney

grook
Writer
Team Omega
Pokédex No.
2002
Caught
May 17, 2020
Messages
215
Location
Miami, FL
Nature
Adamant
Pronouns
he/him
Pokémon Type
Electric, Poison
Pokédex Entry
Localhoney, the Sweet Toxin Pokemon. It's said that the sounds it emits can paralyze even a Gigantamax Grimmsnarl.
Minty stared at her outstretched arm and found it to be fractured in two. No, in three. But it was the world that was in thirds, in sixths, fractured like a mirror, in eights, radiating from a single point over her shoulder, in tenths.
this might be the best single excerpt I've read on these forums or of anything in my life this just fucking hits so good
From the dark flames emerged a set of ice-blue eyes.
Oh bitch what the fuck
“Nobody’s dead. Don’t say that. And I don’t know where they are! Stupid, whimsical horseshit forest magic!”
forest magic
“They lead here,” said Cheryl, “except not really. Celebi travels through time, and so do I.”
oh fucking this will have no weight on the rest of the story none at all
definitely unimportant mhm for sure
“Darkrai! You cowardly thing, there you are.” This was a voice that none recognized. It issued from downhill, its owner obscured by the tree cover. “Have you an appetite only for innocent lives, or will you accept my challenge?”
ohhhhh who the hell is this

MISSY BRING THE BAT BACK
 

Thirteenth

Number XIV
Writer
Pokédex No.
14
Caught
May 20, 2019
Messages
1,719
Nature
Quiet
Pronouns
She/Her
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Ice
Pokédex Entry
The reason she guides people all the way down to the mountain's base is that she wants them to hurry up and leave.
Oh there were some really nice bits of prose that I forgot to quote and they're shadowed by all of part 2 anyway. The time pockets and Cheryl's Celebi power? 👀 Honestly I thought it might've been Giratina at first if only because Gwen had specifically used the word distorted/distortion lol Very curious to see if this type of legendary-chosen magic applies to anyone else...

rip Mauveine u_u Though Whoza brought up a good point that maybe she'll come back with Lucian in the present day...??
 

Missy

i left my heart in alola
Writer
Pokédex No.
94
Caught
Jun 16, 2019
Messages
116
Nature
Lax
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Tough
Pokédex Entry
nanu for hire (rates may vary, payment upfront)
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #105

Apologies for the length.

Henry sat on the steps of Northwick Chateau, the sun beating at the crown of his head. Every minute or so he wandered down the steps, stared into the gloomy depths of the Eterna Forest, and turned around to reprise his spot.

He ought to go after them. He really ought to, but he’d never hear the end of it if he got lost again. The forest was a labyrinth, and neither Roger nor Eliza could scout through the canopy.

On his sixth wander down the steps, he stopped.

Lucian emerged from the greenery, striding past the estate gates. His shirt was rumpled, brambles and leaves caught on his pants, his hair a mess of flyaways. He chewed at his thumbnail—a habit he’d kept from his schooling days—and was he dusted with… yellowish powder?

Henry rushed to meet him across the drive. “What in the world happened to you? Did you find the girls?”

Lucian looked up suddenly as if he’d forgotten Henry would be here. “Oh, Windsor, hello. No. No, I didn’t. Their fights are their business.”

“Then what…” He gestured to Lucian’s uncharacteristically shoddy appearance. Lucian could trudge through a midnight rainstorm and come out the other side looking immaculate. Seeing him unkempt was unnerving.

“I have to use the library,” he said.

“You always have to use the library. What about— ?”

Lucian put a hand on his shoulder to silence him. “Listen, Windy. Zelda and Cynthia are going to fight for the rest of their lives, and I have more important things to deal with at the moment.”

Henry scuffed his bootheel. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

It took a moment, but the haze that shrouded Lucian’s eyes lifted, and he blinked. “Actually, there is.” His suit jacket was held fast by a single button, and he undid it to reveal a lump of bluish fur snuggled into his side. He coaxed it loose, and a Zubat trembled in his palm. “This one is a little lost, I’m afraid.”

“Where did you find that?”

“It doesn’t matter, but you like flying creatures, so I thought you’d know best what to do with her.”

Henry’s brow knit together. “I specialize in birds, not just any flying thing.”

“It couldn’t be that hard.”

Henry stared down at the shivering, leathery ball curled in his friend’s hand, thought about his plans for his own team, felt the sun blaze on his head, his shoulders. It was so hot today. His eyes snapped wide. “They burn! Zubat burn in the sun!” He snatched the Zubat from Lucian, shading her with his chest.

“Well,” said Lucian, startled, “uh, there you go. You know more than me. You’ll do great.” He hurried past Henry up the steps of the chateau.

“Wait,” Henry called after him. “Does she have a name?”

“I…” Lucian stopped, looking back at the woods. “I don’t remember. You could always name her after me. Thanks!” This last sentiment he shouted as he disappeared through the doors, dashing for the library as if the books were on the verge of crumbling to dust.

Left alone, Henry peered down to find that the Zubat was staring back at him. Or, more accurately, her eyeless face was angled towards his. He sighed.

While his friends gambled, he held their coats. While they walked wires, he held the rope. He was always the anchor to them, and like always, here he was picking up the leftover pieces of their adventure.

He scratched behind the Zubat’s ear. Whatever cryptic matter Lucian has his head stuck in would have to wait.

“Alright, Lucy,” he told his new companion. “Let’s get you fixed up.”



It took two whole weeks for Lucy to open up. Henry left her largely alone, feeding her tiny bits of fruit and letting her fly free at night. She came back every morning without fail, so he assumed he was doing something right.

After a while she stopped flying. Instead, she sat hunched on the windowsill, head bowed as if mourning.

She warmed to Eliza first, which wasn’t hard to do. The Chatot was a bundle of sunshine. She sang at every opportunity, sang and laughed and collected bobbles: bits of worn glass, ribbons, and buttons that Henry stashed away in a pouch for her.

Eliza made it her mission to be the first to make Lucy smile, and three weeks into their acquaintance, when presented with a wild rose that Eliza had plucked from the public garden, Lucy finally did.

Roger was never so gentle. However, whenever he sensed that she wasn’t eating or that she was neglecting herself, he’d drag her by the tail until she did. Otherwise he’d report her to Henry. The Staravia had always been a stickler, according to Eliza.

When they travelled together to Hearthome, Lucy cowered at the endless sky. The land to the east of the mountains was horrifically flat, a wasteland of grass and clouds and little else. She was immensely glad for the city. Its manufactured walls, rife with crevices and nooks, were a blessed respite from the endless rolling plains.

The day after they arrived, Henry sat her down for a talk.

“I was thinking,” he said, itching a spot at the back of his head. “It’s true that you’ve been with us for a while, and I— Well, I don’t want to presume. I thought it best to ask you. It would be rude not to, after all, not every beast wants to— “

Lucy squeaked sharply. Out with it.

“Hearthome’s Gym Leader uses ghost-types. Roger and Eliza and I had a run at it a month ago, but even with both of them immune to ghost attacks, we were shut down in less time than it takes to whistle. If you battled with us, it would bring in some much needed coverage.”

Lucy nodded her head. Obviously.

“You’ll do it?” Henry sat forward in his chair.

She nodded again, and he scooped her up in his hands and gave her a peck that squashed her ear. “Attagirl! Eliza will be thrilled. Don’t tell her I told you, but I think she was worried you were leaving us soon.”

Lucy puffed up at that. She took to the air, affixing to the ceiling and shielding her face.

Henry only laughed. “We start training tomorrow.”



Lucy was rusty after her weeks of stagnation, but she recovered with grace. It helped that the scrawny Ralts and delicate Roselia in the nearby fields made for easy prey. She stretched with Eliza in the morning, slept through the noonday sun, and drilled with Roger in the evenings.

The moon swept the sky, and as Lucy traded blows with Roger, her body filled with light. Her new form was awkward, oblong and gangly.

But the force of her bite tripled, and with it she tore through the leader’s ghosts.

They celebrated all the way to Pastoria, where next the team triumphed easily, earning the respect of the leader: a middle-aged lady who fought alongside a swarm of bugs caught in the local lakes.

Training on the southern beaches, Henry caught a Wingull he named Florence. She was shy, but Eliza and Lucy both cared for her, and Roger protected her when she failed in battle, and they set a brisk pace until Sunyshore. But they had no defense against the electric-type leader, and Henry knew it.

It was here that Cythia and Zelda caught up to him.



The flock perched on the railing that ringed Sunyshore’s stadium while Cynthia’s Gabite tore into the Electabuzz below. It was a terrifying display, and afterwards, as the trio walked through the Sunyshore market, the flock couldn’t help but eye the rough-skinned dragon warrily.

“How many badges have you got?” asked Zelda. Her Pachirisu draped itself around her neck like a fur scarf—quite the fetching look.

“Three now,” Henry said, fiddling with his coat buttons. Eterna, Hearthome, Pastoria.

“And only three more to go! You’re on par with me! Look at you, Windy, you’re really doing it.”

Henry blushed down at his shoes. “I won’t be for long. Even if I skip Sunyshore now and move onto Veilstone, I’ll never beat the gym here.”

“This is what you get for narrowing your options,” said Cynthia. She spoke with an airy voice that matched her towering height. “You need diversity if you’re going to beat an electric-type user.”

“I know!” said Zelda, snapping her fingers as the idea came to her. “I’ve got my Gligar, little Luther, and he’s immune to electric-attacks while also being flying-typed. I caught him west of Coronet, so it would be a journey and a half to get there, but I’d show you where, and then we’d match. We’d both have Gligar.”

“You mean it?” Henry’s head shot up eagerly.

Cynthia smirked. “I thought you didn’t train anything that wasn’t a bird. Gligar are a far cry from birds. I doubt they even have feathers.”

Zelda shoved her. “Oh, hush.”

“I’m branching out,” said Henry. “I’ve been training a Golbat for some months now.”

“Lucian did say something about that,” said Cynthia. “It’s still got two legs and two wings, but it’s a start.”

“Where is Lucian, anyhow? I thought he’d be with both of you.”

They pushed from the crowded market back into the open sea air. Wingull wheeled overhead, and the streets were paved as much with sand as they were cobble.

Cynthia shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare as they meandered towards the ocean. “Lucian left for Johto. He said something about his grandmother falling ill. I thought he would have told you.”

Henry startled. “All the way to Johto?”

“Yes,” said Zelda. “We saw him off in Pastoria.”

“I was just in Pastoria,” Henry muttered. He was the anchor to their group, but often he suspected his friends of cutting adrift.



Cynthia refused to stray from her conquest, and thus Henry and Zelda went away together to the vast wilds of western Sinnoh.

It was reminiscent of a vacation. Henry trained very little, and when he did it was at Zelda’s request—he spent every last minute of his day glued to her side.

Eliza laughed at this. Surely he knew how obvious he was being.

Lucy nipped her tail to silence her. Puppy love had its charms. It was soft and sweet.

Eliza hummed a throaty song. Oh, was it?

“Eliza, you’re next!” Henry waved her down from her perch, indicating that she was to spar with Zelda’s Eevee, and the Chatot obliged, brushing Lucy with her wingtips as she went.

They caught their Gligar in the long, jagged canyon that ran from Eterna to the scattered mines in the south. Claude was a fighter, scrappy and energetic, and took a turn at bullying Florence before Roger laid him out flat.

With the task successfully squared away, they returned the way they’d come.

Claude was drilled hard—a process he took pride in—so as to put him on equal footing with the others, and thus it came as little surprise when he evolved. However, Roger and Florence soon joined him.

Lucy was left behind, stunted and gangly.

As Claude trounced the Sunyshore Gym, and as Lucy was kept far away from the psychic-types littering Veilstone’s, Eliza comforted her. Everyone did, but Eliza most of all. Every beast had their strengths and weaknesses, and besides, it would all hands on deck for Snowpoint.

The flock, however, was bloating beyond control. Before their journey north, Henry sent Claude’s capsule by post to the Northwick Chateau to spend time with Zelda’s Gliscor and Pachirisu.

Cynthia had made the trek to Snowpoint a week earlier. This time, it was Henry and Zelda who were left to play catch up.

When the winds that plagued the snow-swamped Route 217 lifted enough for the pair to lower their scarves, Henry asked, “Have you heard from Lucian as of late?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Zelda, “but you know how it is. Family eats up time like nothing else.”

Henry scowled at the flood of relief that swept him. He ought to be worried that Lucian had dropped contact, not grateful that he’d done so indiscriminately.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he said.

They marched alongside Zelda’s Rapidash, walking in the wake of its melt when the drifts grew thick, sheltering in the trees when the winds returned. Zelda’s Eevee ran into the snow and returned as a Glaceon. The flock were kept capsuled.

They reemerged behind the ice-gilt walls of the fortress that was Snowpoint.

The night before their gym match—a battle that Cynthia made laughable with her Lucario, and that Zelda danced through with her Rapidash—Henry took Lucy aside one more.

“I know this isn’t the sort of thing that can be forced,” he said, “but this next battle… I’m worried. I need you to go in against the Abomasnow, but I’d feel better if you were evolved.”

Lucy smudged her wing against the frosted windowpane.

“We could try,” said Henry. “I’d been hoping it would happen naturally, but we’re out of time now. If you want to give it a go, then I’ll postpone the gym match. We could spend some time together, just you and I, but I need to know that you’re open to it. I want you on the team, Lucy, everyone does, but the fights are getting more dangerous, and…”

Lucy poked him in the arm. What Henry was talking miserable circles around was the fact that Golbat evolved through friendship. They grew once their formed a significant pack bond. And that ought to have happened. She’d accepted the flock as her family… hadn’t she?

Despite how long she’d fought alongside this team, despite the fact that she was no longer the newest addition, despite how she was loved, she still stood apart from the others. Perhaps she kept herself apart from the others. Florence shared her meals and Lucy deferred. Claude asked to scuffle and she excused herself. Roger proposed a race and she couldn’t bear to fly.

Elize sidled close to her—on tree branches, on railings, on sills, on logs and on benches and on rocks—and Lucy wrapped her wings into a tight barrier.

She didn’t belong. It was as simple as that.

But Lucy stood tall, baring her fangs in a show of bravado. None of that mattered. She would fight, and she would throw her whole self into it.

“Alright,” said Henry, his smile melancholy. He ruffled her ears. “Just so long as you feel confident.”



The latest heir to Snowpoint’s icy dynasty was ruthless. Florence fought tooth and nail against his Piloswine, the two trading blows in ice and water. Eventually, the floor became so soaked that the great lump of a pachyderm was frozen to the floor and was recalled.

The leader palmed a capsule back and forth. “No use for Medicham here,” he muttered. “Nikita, bring storm!”

The Abomasnow slammed onto the field, its coniferous pelt slagging snow, its bellow churning a gale that pelted all present with sleet.

“Lucy, this one’s up to you,” said Henry, switching around his team. Lucy dove into the snowstorm with a purpose.

“Avalanche!”

“Confuse Ray!”

The orders were issued simultaneously, but Lucy was faster. She ringed the Abomasnow thrice in a dizzying cacophony of sound and light. It roared in fury. Its Avalanche missed the mark.

“Poison Fang!”

Lucy sunk her teeth deep into the Abomasnow’s arm, latching on with all her might, the storm buffeting her wings and back.

“Avalanche again!” the leader called. “Crush it!”

The Abomasnow smashed Lucy into the floor. She gasped, the breath leaving her, and she let go. With a shudder, the Abomasnow loosed a torrent of hard-packed snow that crushed her flat to the ground, the cold burning into her skin.

“No!” Henry cried.

Lucy strained to be free, but she was too weak. Ice stuck to her tongue, her wings, her eyes, heavy and suffocating. The comforting embrace of her capsule whisked her away, and Henry bit the inside of his mouth.

This wasn’t good enough. He needed to save Roger’s Steel Wing to face the dreaded, bulky Glalie, and Florence would fall to a single Wood Hammer.

Eliza materialized on his shoulder. “I need you to blunt it. Feather Dance!” And he thrust her into battle.



Lucy awakened in the hospital.

The Snowpoint hospital had an entire wing dedicated to beasts that fell to the cold. It was founded and paid for by the same icy dynasty that gave the wing its patients—a looseness in money was easier than a kindness in battle, it seemed.

She stretched her wings: sore. She licked her mouth: dry and bitter.

Henry sat at the foot of her bed, turning Snowpoint’s badge over between his fingers, and his smile broke open in relief when he saw she was awake.

“Lucy, thank God.”

Roger marched over with haste, a deep, brotherly concern anointing his brow. Florence landed next to Henry, as openly relieved as her trainer.

Eliza lay in the bed to their left. She was not awake.

Lucy cried her guilt at the sight of the Chatot’s limp form. It was all her fault. If only she had been stronger. If only she hadn’t been some misplaced stray, a janky feather that refused to preen smooth. Didn’t she love them? Wasn’t this her family?

Days passed, and the team whiled away their time in Snowpoint.

In stutters and spurts, Lucy recovered. Soon she could walk and fold her wings, and after that she could fly, but she never left the hospital wing.

The nurses hated her. Whenever they came to check on Eliza, they found her bed littered with refuse—pins and buttons, scraps of tissue, string, ribbon, and snippets from flower vases. In a huff, they’d scoop the litter into the bin, and in the night Lucy would stubbornly lay it out again. When they found it was her, they chased her with a broom.

Eliza awoke in the early hours of morning. She whistled weakly and Lucy, the only other soul conscious at this bleary hour, whirled round at once and flew to her.

The gracidea fields lay bare, for Lucy had reaped their gratitude. She nuzzled into Eliza’s side, feeling her heartbeat.

Eliza crooned to her, soft willowy notes. All was well. All was forgiven.

She burrowed further against the Chatot’s downy feathers. She’d do better from now on. She would protect her. Perhaps she wasn’t where she belonged, but she was where she was needed, and with work those two things could become one and the same.

Dawn broke through the hospital wing as Lucy’s body shone with light.



“Oh, Lucian…” Cynthia set her coffee cup back on its saucer, the letter held tremulously in her off hand.

Henry tore his eyes away from the wooded landscape flying past the train window. “What about Lucian? He wrote to you?”

“I stopped by the post office in Eterna before the train departed.” She glanced at the date and winced. “That’s unfortunate. This was sitting there awhile.”

Zelda, who was feeding her Glaceon bites of cubed cheri berry, poked Cynthia in the side. “Go on then. No need to keep us in suspense.”

Cynthia shot her a look. “His grandmother has passed away, and he’s asked that we travel to Johto. He wants us to be there.”

“For the funeral, you mean?” Henry asked. He exchanged a glance with Zelda, sharing mutual confusion. They’d never even met the woman.

Cynthia eyed him over the lip of the letter, her eyes flicking from his face to the words on the page. Her nose crinkled in that discomforted way. Then she folded up the letter and set it aside under the sugar bowl. “We’ll all go. We have enough funds for travel, what with our badge cases full up. It’s true, Johto is weeks away by ship, but from what I read, Lucian really needs us there.”

The matter was settled thusly.



Despite the weeks it took to cross the ocean to Johto, Henry remained there for all of five days.

On the first day, Lucian received them in Olivine, embracing both of the girls and doing a terrible job of hiding his surprise at the fact that Henry had come with them, though he hugged him, too.

The second day was spent attending the funeral.

The third day, Henry found himself alone. He wandered Lucian’s family home, inquiring to the uncles and aunts, the cousins and the help, but they all told him the same story: his friends had left in the early morning. They hadn’t said where they were going. They hadn’t said when they’d be back.

Then came the fourth day when his friends returned, and they refused to tell him where they’d been. For him there were only half-truths, the leftover crusts, the barest considerations.

One the fifth day he returned the favour: he bought a ticket and left for Sinnoh.



The autumn breeze that blew through the League Village was sweet and mellow, but Henry glared at the sea, a bitter flavour on his tongue.

Eliza, who was picking bits of grass from Lucy’s fur—the consequence of a grounded scuffle—watched him cautiously. Was he going to be alright?

Lucy was struck by what she could only describe as muted nostalgia. If he was upset, he had every right. A person could only go on being discounted for so long before they developed a need to prove themself.

Florence returned from her flight above the seawaves, and Henry caught her on his arm. He turned from the water to address his team. “Who’s ready to train like hell?”

The following weeks dissolved into a routine of drills and sparring, early mornings and late nights with vapid middles, sparring rounds against other trainers who fancied a battle with the best of the best.

Autumn leaves exploded as Lucy flung a Gallade into the treetops, her four wings working in tandem to carve her turns into adroit angles, sharp as her talons.

Eliza confunded her enemies with mimicry. Roger overwhelmed them with sheer power. Claude grappled them into submission, and Florence drowned any resistance.

They trained for three weeks. Then they entered the Grand League Hall, and when they next left, they did so only to put Claude’s cold body in the ground.



Leslie was a tiny thing. He fit in Henry’s cupped palms, and Lucy was disturbed to think that the Swablu would one day grow into a fearsome dragon. He was like a handful of fog pinched and felted from the clouds of Route 210, and she preferred him that way: soft and needy.

She liked that he cried out when startled. She liked that he huddled under Eliza’s wings for comfort. She liked that he insisted on snuggling up to the two of them at night, nestling in beside them and soaking in their body heat.

Once Henry had caught Leslie, he’d whisked them all back to the League Village where Leslie could be trained in safety. From here on out, there would be no hasty mistakes. There would not be another Claude.

The trees clung to the last of their leaves as Eliza sat with Leslie on the beach. She would peep a string of notes, and Leslie would copy her, and they would trade melodies back and forth until at last Leslie would sing. Lucy watched them from afar, heart filled to the brim.

Nearby, in one of the village’s many parks, Henry pit Florence and Roger against each other. He was about to call Lucy over when a figure came running up the road, skirts bunched in one hand to lift them out of the way.

“Henry!” Zelda called, dashing towards him.

Startled, he whirled around. “Bwuh?” he said, eloquently.

She practically crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Goodness, I hoped I’d find you here. Didn’t know where else you’d be. I— “ She stopped, her throat closing around the words.

Henry held her apart from him. “What’s happened to you?”

“It’s Aurelius!” she burst, eyes welling with tears. “He’s gone.”

Her starter, the Empoleon. Henry blinked in shock.

Zelda backed away to dab at her eyes. “Cynthia, she killed him. That is, I don’t mean to say she planned it, but we’d been arguing the day before, and then… He was alive for a few days afterwards. I thought he’d be better, but he went all at once.”

“It feels like your whole world loses a little light, doesn’t it?” Henry asked, a subtle hint, an invitation to ask how he knew what it felt like to lose a companion, to ask what he’d done in the months they’d been apart.

She didn’t notice it, and he could hardly blame her. It was a selfish impulse, to hint. She was crumbling with grief, and all he could think of was how he wished someone had been with him for Claude.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” she said.

Henry laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Well, whatever you do, you won’t have to do it alone.”



Using their winnings—along with a generous supplemental from Zelda’s family—they rented a small house in the village, and it was there they lived for some months.

Lucian stopped by often. He’d taken up his gym track again, and they gathered around the fireplace as he puzzled over strategies for Sunyshore and Veilstone, Zelda and Henry interjecting with equal parts plausible suggestions and ludicrous gambits.

Cynthia visited rarely. Really, she less visited and more poked her head in the door to check if Zelda was ready to reconcile. It took some time.



Winter blanketed the village in snow, froze the near shore to ice, and one Sunday morning, with the fog rolling over the ocean, the stiff bodies of Starly washed up on the shore. A storm had blown in the night before and frozen the post birds out of the air.

Zelda brought the news in with the morning bread.

Henry flung on his coat and rushed for the door, hopping on the spot as he pulled on his boots. “Don’t wait on me for breakfast; I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t come back for breakfast, and instead of lunch he spent the afternoon combing the beaches for more bodies. Zelda brought his dinner to the post office, where she found him cradling a Starly against his chest, warming it slowly.

“How are they?” she asked, setting her parcel aside.

“We found fifteen,” Henry said, petting the Starly’s head. “Staravia, too. Seven were ours, from the village, three from Sunyshore, three from Veilstone and two from Pastoria. This is the only one that woke up. I sent Florence to query Sunyshore, and they found over a dozen there.”

“That’s…” Zelda frowned. “That’s nearly a whole roost, isn’t it?”

The postmaster swept into the room, her arms full of documents sealed with the Sinnohvan gracidea. “We only have three birds left, including that one there. I have no idea how we’ll run the post.”

“You can’t ask for post offices in other cities to send replacements?”

“It would take a while. And in the meantime, the League is completely cut off from the rest of Sinnoh. Barely a smidge of information can come in or out.”

“I can do it,” Henry said. “My team can, that is. We’ll run the post.”

The postmaster stopped shuffling the documents. “Are you sure?”

Henry nodded. “We’ll do our best for however long you need us.”



Roger flew the bulkiest mail, laden with bags, his chest crisscrossed by straps. Florence and Eliza shouldered the rest, and Lucy was given the priority correspondence. Anything stamped with blue and gold was put in her care, and she shot across the water, from the village to Sunyshore, in less than half an hour.

While the flock were busy in the air, Henry stayed grounded and nursed the injured Starly back to health. Six of the replacement birds arrived in capsules, but ten arrived in eggs. In less than a week, he was up to his waist in needy chicks.

Leslie fumed with jealousy. He was the only baby this family needed! He bit Henry on the ankle.

“Ack!” Henry glared down at the little cotton puff. “Alright, you.”

He wrapped Leslie in a scarf and stuffed him in a hat, plopping the cocoon of knit on the snowy windowsill. Leslie whined shrilly until Lucy scooped him up and took him on a flight.

Winter thawed and the sea ice broke. The hectic workload lessened. The new Starly took to the air for the first time. And, when Henry wasn’t looking, Zelda left for Eterna.



Henry jolted awake. His heart slammed against his ribs as his eyes darted wildly, tracing unfamiliar shadows.

Where was he? Where was he? He blinked away the sleep. Oh, that’s right. After Zelda returned to Eterna, they’d left their shared house, and now he slept in the basement of the post office.

Lucy was the only one who could abide the dank, cave-like room—the others slept in the roost upstairs. She dangled upside-down in the corner. Her golden eyes glowed in the dark, watching him.

“Sorry,” Henry whispered. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Four sets of wings unfurled, and with one powerful flap, Lucy glided silently to rest on the edge of his bed. She nuzzled him.

“It was just a silly nightmare,” Henry said. “I don’t know why I was so scared anyways. I was watching Zelda and Lucian and Cynthia at Northwick Chateau. They were fine. They were great, in fact. It was… really boring.”

And yet the dream had instilled in him an intense, perverse terror, as if the happiness and safety of his friends would bring the world crashing down. Zelda had smiled, smiled at him, and his blood had run cold.

He wracked his brain. Why had he been so terrified? But no matter how he poured over the dream, he couldn’t find a reason for it. There had been only one inconsistency.

Zelda hadn’t had a shadow.



Leslie evolved and Eliza nearly fainted into Lucy’s side.

Lucy clicked her teeth, nudging her darling back into a standing position. No need to be dramatic.

Eliza flung herself at the Altaria that now towered over her, singing with joy for her baby boy. Leslie shrunk in embarrassment, his long neck inching further and further into the fluff of his body until he was positively round.

Springtime had washed over eastern Sinnoh, bringing with it mild weather and new growth. The new post birds were already trained, and the team finally had time enough to prepare for another run at the League.

Two months later, they climbed the hill to the League Summit—a flat-face, gothic echo of the League Palace in Kalos—and walked through the doors with confidence.



Lucy lay wheezing on the ground. No matter how she worked her mouth, she couldn’t breathe. The Lucario’s punch had knocked something loose in her, and now she flailed like a Magikarp out of water, gaping at the ceiling.

Eliza stood over her. She shrieked, hysterical.

As Lucy’s vision swam into blurry rivulets, a dull chill crept in, interrupted only by the warm embrace of her capsule, and then nothing. Nothing at all.



The Champion shook Henry’s hand, pumping it firmly. The strength was surprising from a woman with crow’s feet and grey hair.

“Goodness gracious,” she said. “It’s been quite some time since someone’s fought me with a team like that. That battle was a pleasure.”

“You’re welcome,” Henry said, glancing at the capsule clutched in his hand.

The Champion sighed. “It’s such a shame whenever that happens, but it’s better injured than dead. We’ve got a physician here who can take a look at her, if you’ll entrust her to our care, and we’ll tend to her as long as is needed.”

Henry blinked. “Do you do that for all challengers?”

“I heard about what you did for the post office,” she said, a merry glint in her eye. “It was a privilege to battle against the team that single handedly kept the region from grinding to a halt. Though, to answer your question, yes, we do extend that offer to all our challengers.”

Once his team was passed safely into the hands of a waiting nurse, Henry returned to the vast, gold-gilt lobby of the League Summit.

As if lying in wait, Zelda sprang up the stairs to wrap her arms around him. “Windy, you son of a bitch! You’re the first one through? Goddamn.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said.

Lucian and Cynthia had the restraint to wait at the bottom of the stairs, Lucian with his hands folded behind his back, and Cynthia leaning on the brass Shaymin statue that adorned the banister.

“Now,” said Cynthia, “what would I need to do to get a battle with Sinnoh’s latest celebrity?”

Henry descended the stairs, Zelda looping her arm around his. “You’d need to wait,” he said. He hadn’t meant for it to sound as sharp as it did, but the childish tug of Zelda on his arm, how she harried his pace, it soured him. “And what are you all doing here?”

“What do you mean?” Zelda asked. “We’re here to congratulate you, of course.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I’ve been here, at the League Village, training for months, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you. I sent letters and I never received even a single reply.”

Zelda picked at her sleeve. “We’ve been…”

“Busy,” Lucian supplied lamely, but his tone was clipped, anxious to smooth things over. “You know how much pressure Zelda is under as the next head of her family.”

“And Cynthia,” Zelda said, “her grandmother has been all over her, pestering her about the Celestic traditions.”

“Lucian has no excuse,” Cynthia said. “He’s been burying himself in books, that’s all.”

She and Lucian shared a look of dry myrth, but Henry shrugged free of Zelda’s grip. “One letter,” he said, “one, it’s a simple thing.” He glared at the floor. They were covering for each other. They all knew something he didn’t, and never in the months and months that they’d held this secret had they elected to share. The only question was whether he could stand it.

“We’re genuinely sorry,” Zelda said. “We’ll make an effort to do better, and besides, I had something I wanted to ask of you.”

“I don’t think it’s sporting for me to snitch on the Elites’ battle strategies.”

Zelda laughed. “Nothing of the sort.”

“Then what is it you want from me?” The bitterness in his voice was undeniable, but it seemed everyone was determined to ignore it.

“My father insists that I make a pilgrimage to our ancestral home in Dendemille, and afterwards he says that I ought to know Kalos like he does. It’s a bunch of waffle, and I’ll be trapped with my father and stuffy little sister, so it would spare me so much pain if you’d come, too. We could see Lumiose together. It might even be fun.”

Henry sighed. A weariness settled on his shoulders. But, because there was always one answer he could never give her, he said, “Yes, I’d love to.”



It was in this way that Lucy recovered in Dendemille. By the summer, her aches had subsided and she flew lengths over the north Coumarine coast. My autumn she was sparring with Leslie.

The twinge in her lungs never truly went away. It would nag at her, a needle prick in every burst of speed, a pang in every bout won, but she grew talented at hiding it.

Zelda and Henry would return together to Kalos many times over the years. It was during this first trip that they truly fell into step. With his victory at the League, Henry was ready to put any lingering sense of inferiority behind him, and Zelda—the best he could tell—was trying to leave something behind, as well.

Kalos was good for that. Sun and wine and good company all made for excellent distractions.

And so they returned many times. As Zelda built herself into a young matriarch, and as Henry threw himself into college—studying the proper upkeep and breeding of avian beasts—their lives fell away into the hectic monotony of burgeoning adulthood. But they would always return to Kalos.

As much as Sinnoh was their region, Kalos was their place.



A letter arrived for Henry. The maid brought it in and he sliced it open. As he read, his eyes grew wide and he scratched at his beard—a fixture he was quite proud of, as it had taken quite a while to cultivate.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered.

“What is it?” Zelda turned so that she faced into the hotel room, hands resting on the balcony rail, the lights of Anistar at her back.

“Bad news first,” said Henry. “Our Champion has suffered a heart attack.”

“How terrible!”

“She’s alive and well for now, but she isn’t fit to continue on. They’ve begun to nominate potential successors. It’s sure to be a long and arduous process...”

“No!” Zelda gasped in delight. She hurried into the room, brushing aside the gossamer curtains. “And you said there’s good news?”

“It would stand to reason,” said Henry teasingly.

“Henry Windsor!” Zelda said. “Tell me right this instant— “

“I’m sure you’d be in the running as well if only you’d cleared the League.”

“You shut your pretty mouth before I shut it for you.”

Henry scanned the letter again. “I’m sure this has less to do with my battling abilities and more to do with how I helped run the post all those years ago. I’d bet top dollar they’ve asked Cynthia, too.”

“Oh, but she won’t take part,” said Zelda.

“How’s that? This is no small opportunity.”

“She has… other priorities at the moment.” Zelda waved her hand vaguely as if to dismiss the notion. “She won’t be swayed from her…”

“Research?” Henry supplied. This was what he’d been told, though he only believed it in parts.

Zelda nodded. “Her research.”

He laid the letter aside. “No harm in trying, but I doubt anything will come of it.”

In one swift motion, Zelda sat on the arm of his chair and kissed him firmly. “What did I say about shutting your pretty mouth?”

“What? I said I’d try.”

And once they returned to Sinnoh, he did try, and, funnily enough, he won.



Leslie hated formal occasions. He was a cloud made of fluff; he could be alight with static electricity for all the difference it made to his feathers, but Eliza insisted that he be well groomed.

He inched away as his mother pursued him.

Eliza scolded him. He was a Champion’s beast, had been for some months now, and this was a wedding. If he was seen looking like a dust bunny, God help her—! She pleaded to her partner for help.

Lucy flew over to help wrangle their brat of an adopted son.

One room over, Henry poured two glasses of bourbon and handed one to Lucian, who stopped midpace to accept it.

“You know,” Lucian said, “historically, the job of the best man was to protect the groom in case of an assassination. I couldn’t ask for anyone better than the Champion himself, but chances are you’ll be busy protecting me from myself.”

“Just remember to breathe. You’re marrying Cynthia, not battling her.”

Lucian sipped his drink. “Do you think it was inevitable that the four of us would pair off like this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No reason to play coy. You and Zelda aren’t exactly a secret, but answer the question. Was this inevitable?”

Henry swirled his drink. “I’m sure we could have paired off in other ways.”

“You think?” asked Lucian, taken aback.

“Well, sure. I’ve always been attracted to poor eyesight and the smell of old books.”

Lucian paused, then he burst into laughter. “And I’ve always found that having your head in the clouds has its subtle charms. Oh, in another life, in another life.”

Their laughter trailed into silence.

Henry asked, “Do you think I ought to ask her? Zelda, I mean, about, you know…”

“If you feel you’re ready.”

“I do. I might.”

Lucian finished his drink and smiled. “I think that would make her very happy.”



Henry and Zelda were married for less than a year before Zelda passed away during childbirth.

Instead of time to grieve, Henry was given yet another battlefield as he fought tooth and nail for his daughters. They were his children, he was their father, and it was his right to raise them. He wanted so desperately to raise them. He wouldn’t settle unless he had all three.

He was given one.



Minty slept in the crook of Henry’s arm as he sorted the post one-handed. Deftly, he arranged the envelopes by address and portioned them by weight—these piles for the Starly, those for the Staravia. His team would bear the heaviest parcels.

This was his lot in life now. He wasn’t fit for the Champion position. He wasn’t fit to parent three girls. He wasn’t fit for two. No, he got one girl and a post office.

In his grief, it was almost impossible to keep the bitterness from bubbling up, even when he had a lifetime of practice suppressing it. But then Minty stirred, flailing her tiny fists, and he managed just fine.

He called up into the roost: “Morning! Mail time.”

The birds flew to the outside window in a rush.

He handed the express Starly their single letters first, then turned to the others, slipping each delivery into the little satchel and buttoning it closed.

His team arrived last.

Bending at the knees, he hoisted a bundle of books onto the counter. “Leslie, this is for Veilstone. Minty, can you say ‘Leslie’?”

“Fweh,” Minty said.

“Very good! Roger, this first one is for Sunyshore, then you take the second to Pastoria. Minty, can you say ‘Roger’?”

“Woh.”

“That’s actually not bad! Lucy, this is a League document bound for Hearthome, priority, but feel pressed. Minty, can you say ‘Lucy’?”

Minty stared. “Woo.”

As Henry slipped the folder into her satchel, Lucy stared back, as was her custom. She flicked Minty on the nose. Before the girl could complain, Lucy swooped from the window, gliding over the village before flagging a hard right, and drove for the mainland.

The rich, coniferous carpet blurred beneath her. Roads broke through, but they were there and gone in an instant. Fields blurred. Rivers were barely a flicker. What took some birds a day Lucy covered in hours.

She would fly in the mornings, rest through the daylight, and return at dusk. Hers were only the most urgent flights, the most crucial of messages, but there was nothing worse than spending all day in some stranger’s roost instead of home with her family.

She could be home before the sun rose if she pushed herself, and so she pushed herself.

Her chest panged, but that was Solaceon beneath her. She was almost to Hearthome. She pumped her wings.

While the gym trainer at the Hearthome Gym retrieved the document, she fought against a wince. It went away with a drink of water. It came back when she took to the air, but she nestled it away in the back of her mind, focusing instead on the rush of the air, the cool caress of the clouds.

The sun was just beginning to singe her fur when she dipped into a spiral and landed in the garden.

Eliza met her with a chirp. Her darling was home early!

Lucy smiled, fluffing up her wings. Eliza inspired in her a certain bashfulness even now. Then she coughed, her vision bled like oil, and her mouth tasted of copper.

Eliza caught her.

They visited the physician. He prescribed a tonic and sent them away, but in another six months they returned. Lucy ailed. They brought her again and again as the occasional visit became monthly, became weekly, as they became resigned instead of panicked, gentle instead of determined.

Leslie sang to her. Eliza brought her bobbles. Henry left the window open for her at night, and Minty, who was forming words at last, pronounced her name with clarity.

“Lucy!”

They stopped visiting the physician.
Now, the thing about Mauveine is that I never used her in game. Not once, not in one important fight, not in a single trainer battle. And can you blame me? She didn't have a partner until the Windworks. I couldn't switch train her. I didn't have an exp share. So when I got to Eterna Forest, I could finally grind her up while partnered with Cheryl, and wouldn't you know it but those Buneary are killer. At least I think it was a Buneary. Like I said, Mauveine hadn't made much of an impression on me until then, so I don't even remember exactly what it was that killed her.

But the funny thing with how the story shook out is that I spent a lot more time writing her than I ever spent training her in-game. For as irrelevant as she ultimately is/was, I felt the need to give Mauveine something of a full life. Ironically, I won't extend this honour to other pokemon that die later, but such is the way.

Oh, and apologies to everyone who thought that she might pop up again in the story proper, but... no.
 

Whozawhatcha

i have too many projects
Pokédex No.
486
Caught
Jul 12, 2019
Messages
484
Nature
Lonely
Pokémon Type
Fire, Flying
Okay, so. Hot take, but Henry needs new friends. Can you even CALL them friends? Like really? Really really. Cynthia I like the least, so congrats. Bold of you to take everyone's most liked and/or respected Champion and make her a tool. I respect that. She's got some "might is right" Iris Asiriu vibes with how blunt and brutal all her battles are shown as. Ice cold bitch, 10/10.

Lucian? Poor little bitch boy rat, that's all he is.

Zelda? I dont know why I thought maybe I'd like her, maybe cause Henry married her and I like henry, but goddamn what a dumb man, marrying a pretty rich lady who doesnt care about you but rather the services you can give to her. And that applies to all his so called friends. Also, henry, baby, dumbass, why didnt you try to make some better friends??

The bird and bat babes? Effervescent.

Also, this chapter just made me love and pity Henry that much more. (Why wouldnt they let him keep the other two girls?) It feels poetic that Mauvine ends up with Henry and, roundaboutly, ends up meeting up with Minty once again. But like, thanks for making it sad you fuck.
 

SayleeK

Johto League Champion
Pokédex No.
260
Caught
Jul 1, 2019
Messages
1,057
Location
Scrivener
Nature
Careful
Pronouns
She/her
Pokémon Type
Fire, Fairy
Pokédex Entry
Between long periods of dormant slumber, this writer rises again for periods of activity that leave piles of dead fictional Pokemon in their wake
!!! The bat is alive!!! I don’t have to kill you in your sleep!!! Delightful!!!

Gay bat lives and has a cute girlfriend! Good!!!

Bat feelings aside, the glimpse we’re getting of the dynamics between a younger Henry, Zelda, Lucian and Cynthia is very 👀

“a looseness in money was easier than a kindness in battle, it seemed” what fire-type move did you teach your Golbat to allow her to burn them the fuck down like that

She evolved through loving her gf!!! Excellent!!!

Oh Henry being left out of his friends’ adventures hurts. OW. After how long it would’ve taken to get there, too, goddamn. Oh geez, and then he takes the League and loses Claude and his friends are there for NONE of it. That is ACHING.

Eliza and Lucy have a baby Swablu! They’re raising a baby!!! I love them

God, Henry is SO nice and supportive and gentle when none of his friends were there for him, damn. The image of him scooping frozen birds off the beach, too… god this man is so soft and good when everything around him is cruel and distant

sadgfgds Leslie is such a spoilt baby, I love him

FUCK YOU, I THOUGHT YOU’D KILLED HER IN THE LEAGUE, WHY MUST YOU TORMENT US SO

Man it hurts that he’s surprised that his friends are there, ugh, WHAT SECRETS ARE THEY HIDING FROM THEIR NICEST FRIEND. They’re Chosen, aren’t they? I get that’s supposed to be a secret but that doesn’t mean they have to IGNORE him, damn

Lucian and Cynthia, huh? I like the camraderie that’s reformed between Henry and Lucian prior to the wedding. Feels like old friends again, which is nice.

And then he’s the Champion and married to the love of his life and loses her, loses his job, and two-thirds of his children, UGH, why did you make him so nice just to make him SUFFER

WHY DO YOU MAKE ME SUFFER, MINTY’S FIRST WORD IS THE SECOND NAME OF HER BELOVED GAY BAT, AND THEN SHE DOES DIE AFTER ALL, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO YOU TO DESERVE THIS ATTACK ON MY PERSONAL LIFE AND HAPPINESS

Like, overall, this was beautifully constructed, a heartbreaking circle of Mauveine/Lucy finding love and happiness and getting what is, all told, quite a wonderful and eventful life, while also deftly weaving in backstory to the world and family that the girls are growing up in. It’s just that nothing is okay and I’ll never be happy again, but it’s fine, this is fine
 

Dee

THIS IS MY HAPPY FACE
Writer
Team Alpha
Pokédex No.
147
Caught
Jun 26, 2019
Messages
765
Location
Zion National Park
Nature
Sassy
Pronouns
They/Them
Pokémon Type
Bug, Clever
Pokédex Entry
A regular writer of fanfics and other works, this pokemon loves puns, bugs, and the outdoors.
It took two whole weeks for Lucy to open up. Henry left her largely alone, feeding her tiny bits of fruit and letting her fly free at night. She came back every morning without fail, so he assumed he was doing something right.

After a while she stopped flying. Instead, she sat hunched on the windowsill, head bowed as if mourning.
don't do this to herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
“Attagirl! Eliza will be thrilled. Don’t tell her I told you, but I think she was worried you were leaving us soon.”
gay bird gay birds gay birds gay--
Her Pachirisu draped itself around her neck like a fur scarf—quite the fetching look.
I can envision it now! It's very glamorous
Cynthia shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare as they meandered towards the ocean. “Lucian left for Johto. He said something about his grandmother falling ill. I thought he would have told you.”

Henry startled. “All the way to Johto?”

“Yes,” said Zelda. “We saw him off in Pastoria.”

“I was just in Pastoria,” Henry muttered. He was the anchor to their group, but often he suspected his friends of cutting adrift.
Wow... what a prick! I know it's rough going, but still, oof.
Eliza materialized on his shoulder. “I need you to blunt it. Feather Dance!” And he thrust her into battle.
I don't have a good feeling about this
Eliza lay in the bed to their left. She was not awake.
MISSY?!?
The third day, Henry found himself alone. He wandered Lucian’s family home, inquiring to the uncles and aunts, the cousins and the help, but they all told him the same story: his friends had left in the early morning. They hadn’t said where they were going. They hadn’t said when they’d be back.

Then came the fourth day when his friends returned, and they refused to tell him where they’d been. For him there were only half-truths, the leftover crusts, the barest considerations.

One the fifth day he returned the favour: he bought a ticket and left for Sinnoh.
Good! Stand up for yourself! Whoza was right, these people are the worst--even Zelda! I expected better from her! She really is her sister's sister, isn't she?
“It’s Aurelius!” she burst, eyes welling with tears. “He’s gone.”

Her starter, the Empoleon. Henry blinked in shock.

Zelda backed away to dab at her eyes. “Cynthia, she killed him. That is, I don’t mean to say she planned it, but we’d been arguing the day before, and then… He was alive for a few days afterwards. I thought he’d be better, but he went all at once.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand I immediately feel bad for her again. And the fact they'd been arguing beforehand... this doesn't really seem like an accident, hm. No wonder Zelda sets her daughters up against her.
Leslie fumed with jealousy. He was the only baby this family needed! He bit Henry on the ankle.
I adore him. Protect always.
He wracked his brain. Why had he been so terrified? But no matter how he poured over the dream, he couldn’t find a reason for it. There had been only one inconsistency.

Zelda hadn’t had a shadow.
I AM HAVING THEORIES.
He glared at the floor. They were covering for each other. They all knew something he didn’t, and never in the months and months that they’d held this secret had they elected to share.
GOD they're so SHITTY.
Henry and Zelda were married for less than a year before Zelda passed away during childbirth.

Instead of time to grieve, Henry was given yet another battlefield as he fought tooth and nail for his daughters. They were his children, he was their father, and it was his right to raise them. He wanted so desperately to raise them. He wouldn’t settle unless he had all three.

He was given one.
😭 😭

I suppose the Montgivres have too much weight to throw around... eugh!

Okay, now it's tinfoil-hat Theory Time: Cynthia is doing Celestic "research" on Mt. Coronet. Zelda was in on it. Zelda doesn't have a shadow in Henry's nightmare. Giratina is affiliated with shadows. My theory: Cynthia and pals were fucking around with shadow magic and ended up biting off more than they could chew. That's what killed Zelda, not childbirth, and it's stained/corrupted all of her daughters somehow, and is the true origin of their supposed "psychic" abilities.
 

Wwarborday

Gradually Becoming Productive
Pokédex No.
153
Caught
Jun 28, 2019
Messages
187
Location
Gaytown
Nature
Sassy
Pronouns
He/him/his
Pokémon Type
Ground, Ice
Pokédex Entry
I'm Doing My Best
Right, I've told you this, and I've liveblogged my reaction, but let me say it again; I love your writing.

It flows, it's emotional, you set scenes, and move characters, and gave us all the story of a man's life in one chapter and made my heart ache. How the fuck did you do that. The pacing of this is fucking perfect; each scene lasts exactly as long as it needs to, and nothing is given too little or too much attention.

Anyway. I would die for Henry, you are very mean, and I cannot wait for the next update.
 

Thirteenth

Number XIV
Writer
Pokédex No.
14
Caught
May 20, 2019
Messages
1,719
Nature
Quiet
Pronouns
She/Her
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Ice
Pokédex Entry
The reason she guides people all the way down to the mountain's base is that she wants them to hurry up and leave.
wooooow, you gave her back only to take her away, I'm



Also Henry damn, why didn't you get better friends ;;
 

sunrii

Conqueror of the Pewter Gym
Pokédex No.
695
Caught
Aug 20, 2019
Messages
8
Nature
Quirky
Pronouns
she/her
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Ground
Pokédex Entry
This Pokemon is gentle-natured and foul-mouthed. Also, it smells faintly of peaches.
So this last week I've been RELIGIOUSLY reading this every morning with breakfast and it has, by and large, been my most looked-forward-to part of my day. I can say with full confidence this is my favorite written run I've ever had the pleasure of discovering and one of my favorite stories in general.
I ADORE the setting! I never thought a late-Victorian setting would work with Pokemon, since so much of the series is mired in 90's and 2000's tech and sensibilities, but you have made something really unique and fun that I can't get enough of!
The writing is lovely and so masterfully done. The environments are painted beautifully and dialogue has so much purpose and fun. The characters! I adore each character written, and I love what you're doing with the sisters! (Minty is BY AND LARGE my favorite because I, too, am a big softie who is stubborn as hell.) I can tell that there's a lot of development coming up for them.
I love how you're writing the Pokemon! You've found a fun way to walk the line between "impossible-to-understand-beasts who say their names all the time" and "creatures we can openly communicate with". I love how distinct their personalities and relationships are!
I can tell you're setting up some ABSOLUTELY BALLER stuff with this story, and I'm so, so, so excited to experience it!

Now that I have all that out of the way...
I am so absolutely WRECKED by this last chapter. It was so full of heart and sadness and emotion, it was beautiful seeing Mauvine/Lucy have a full life and grow to love after being wrenched from her old life so suddenly. Seeing her get to be a part of Minty's life before she passed away has me feeling SOME KIND OF WAY. (Hint: it's emotionally destroyed. That's the way.)
AND even though this chapter is about Mauvine/Lucy's new life, it feels deliciously strategic how much foreshadowing and hinting and Zelda and Cynthia there are. Those two and Lucian have clearly been doing some Fuckshit™ and I'm so excited to see it play out!
Also poor Henry! This was an emotional chapter for him, too! :(

Anyway so uh. Yeah. This run is dope as hell and owns my ass. I'm so excited for the next chapter, thank you for taking the time and effort to make something so fun and lovely!
 

Missy

i left my heart in alola
Writer
Pokédex No.
94
Caught
Jun 16, 2019
Messages
116
Nature
Lax
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Tough
Pokédex Entry
nanu for hire (rates may vary, payment upfront)
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #112
So picture this: two detectives walk into the morgue, and they've got their coats and their deep voices, and one of them goes, "Ah, so here's the body." And the other lifts the plastic sheet to reveal a stiff cadaver, shocked white, just dead as hell. And the first one picks up the report and puts a cigarette in his mouth and goes, "Hmm." And his partner asks, "What's the cause of death?" And the one with the cigarette says, "Too many nice comments. Goddamn, those sick sons of bitches." And the other shakes his head and whistles sadly, and meanwhile I'm lying there, as previously stated, dead as hell, but like in a sexy and also feminist way.

Anyways, I'll see you all in court.

Previously: the girls made their way through Eterna Forest but were interrupted when the very fabric of time exploded around them. Gwen helped Cheryl recover their friends. Estelle and Mira fled from a Darkrai. Minty met a new friend and lost an old one.



As the dreary party emerged from the gloom of Eterna Forest, Cheryl buzzed like a hive of Charjabug, energy humming beneath her skin. Her wide eyes drank in the spread of stars. She had to choke down a laugh. She wanted nothing more than to shuck off her shoes and run a mile barefoot through the moonlit grasses, but she glanced over her shoulder and found the strength to curb that urge.

Estelle held herself with a shocked disquietude, arms pressed defensively across her chest, gaze flitting absently about the middle distance.

Gwen always seemed just on the verge of breaking the silence before she caught herself and humbled.

Minty had cried herself empty long ago.

The lights of Eterna shone in the near distance, and Cheryl said softly, “My employers have a summer residence not far from here. I’m sure they won’t mind a few guests, especially considering the circumstances.”

“No kidding,” said Gwen.

Minty sniffled pitifully.

Cheryl’s nerves sang with excitement, her heart thrilling at her exertion of power, and she wished to rip out her insides and lay them bare. How dare she feel such exhilaration? How dare it linger so sweet while the world curdled around her?

Eterna was a warm, dust coloured city. If the houses were not brick, they were terracotta plaster. Hazel trees lined the boulevards. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past, bouncing over the earthen cobbles, their panes winking in the gaslight.

A pair of Chingling giggled on a windowsill before drifting away on the breeze. Then, in a blink, they returned to the sill and did it again.

Cheryl rubbed her eyes, grounding her perception in the present. The last thing she needed was to foresee herself tripping and yell like a madwoman over seemingly nothing.

They reached the apartment at last. The building was flat-faced, skinny and three stories to compensate. It lay flush with those next to it and distinguished only by its dark red paint and sectioned yard, which was full to bursting with white roses.

Mira lit up when she sighted the house. “This is it!” she rushed up the walk, hopped the stairs and rang the bell. While the others followed, she rocked on her heels until the door opened.

An elderly butler answered the door. “Young Miss Mira! Why, if it hasn’t been a year and a day since I saw you last. We weren’t expecting you until next week.”

“We expedited our journey through the forest,” said Cheryl, joining Mira in the doorway, “and any chance of enjoying Floaroma fell through. I trust that the guest rooms are unoccupied? We have company.” She stepped aside to reveal the sorry trio dithering amongst the roses.

“I’ll have the rooms made up,” the butler said. “Is there anything else you require?”

“Are the mister and missus in?”

“The master, yes, though he has business and shouldn’t be disturbed until tomorrow.”

Cheryl let out a long, slow breath. “Thank you, Wesley. That will be all.”

“Come on,” said Mira, bouncing down the steps to take Estelle by the hand and drag her forward, trying against all hope to cheer the girls. “I’ll show you the rooms. They’re really pretty.”

And so they were led in a somber parade into the foyer and towards the stairs, following Wesley and a pair of maids carrying linens. The girls, borne on helplessly by Mira, were nearly out of sight when the door to the left opened.

“Officer Lovewell?” Gwen said.

Cheryl froze. A trickle of ice traced down her neck. She positively glowed with the remnants of Celebi’s power: the grass-like sway of her hair, the confident set of her posture, the unwanted alacrity in her eyes. And more damning than that were the girls behind her, Minty with her reddened eyes and the other two, shellshocked.

Lovewell—as he was known these days—stared at her.

Cheryl stared back, horrified.

“I was just leaving,” said Lovewell in the same moment that Mira, who caught on fast, said, “I’m tired, let’s go.” She pulled Estelle onwards.

As they filed upstairs, Cheryl remained frozen on the bottom step. She ought to say something, to defend herself, but any and all excuses died on her tongue.

Lovewell caught her by the arm as if she might run. He yanked her roughly into the foyer. “What have you done?” he demanded.

“I— “

“You broke through time, didn’t you?”

She glowered. “That’s fairly obvious, wouldn’t you say? Another brilliant deduction, investigator general.”

“I don’t need your lip.”

“And I don’t need your manhandling.”

“For God’s sake,” he said. “This isn’t some sort of game, Wayfarer. Legendary power isn’t a toy. Meddling with the fabric of the universe gets people killed— “

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m not perfectly aware!” She whirled free of his grip, tear beading in her eyes. They stung, acidic. “I’d love to see you shoulder the burdens that we do, but no, you’re just a common agent who thinks he knows everything.”

“I know the consequences better than I pray you ever will.”

Cheryl wiped at her face. “I’m trying, damn you. I’m trying my best, but sometimes asking to keep these powers tamped is like asking a Finneon to breathe air.”

“Power begs to be used?” Lovewell asked. “That’s your excuse?”

“It won’t happen again.”

“You brought those girls with you—I saw the looks on their faces. Was anyone left behind? Was anyone clipped?”

Cheryl had no answer for him.

“Of all the brainless…” Lovewell sighed, a disgusted sound. “I told them you shouldn’t be left to do as you please.”

“Are you suggesting I be detained?” Cheryl asked.

“You can’t take this personally.”

“Funny, since this seems rather personal to you—

Lovewell drew up to his full height, incensed, when the door to the office creaked open. They both fell silent.

“Looker, Wayfarer,” came the admonishment, “if you insist on bickering like children, I must insist you do it where you won’t wake the entire neighborhood. In here. Now.”

They acquiesced.



Minty lay on the plush bed, sinking into the layers of quilt and duvet, and felt the void stretch out around her, immense, uncaring. Ghostly curtains dampened the moonlight that spilled across the carpet. The groans and complaints of the old house settling faded into the distance.

She couldn’t bear to be alone, but what choice did she have now?

Her father was on the other side of the continent. Her sisters were anything but a comfort, Cheryl she despised, Mira was too sugary.

And Mauveine— Mauveine was lost to the whims of the world, a world that was revealing itself to be even more cruel and unfathomable than Minty could have ever imagined.

This spring, no more than two months ago, she’d departed from this very city with her head held high. Why? What reason had she to be optimistic?

She was so brazenly stupid.

She’d believed that good intentions made her invulnerable. By virtue of her good intentions, the universe would carry her safely to shore; she could cast herself to the wind and land just where she ought to.

Bad things didn’t happen to good people, and she was a good person, wasn’t she? Bad things wouldn’t happen to her, but they had, and she’d been so blind to the possibility that it had hit her like a bolt from the blue.

She’d rendered herself helpless to stop it. She’d clipped her own wings. She’d lost Mauveine.

The world was unjust and chaotic and cruel, and she wanted her friend. She wanted Mauveine back. Mauveine would comfort her, would scold her for crying so forcefully, would pull at her hair until she found the strength to shoo her away.

Minty rolled over onto her front and screamed into the feather pillows. She shrieked and carried on until at last her throat was raw and her lungs aching, and she collapsed in a miserable pile, wrung out.

Foolish, foolish, foolish! Daft and foolish with a head full of feathers.

Rolling over, she spied the belongings she’d thrown lazily onto the nightstand. Moonlight dusted the ruby top of Mauveine’s capsule and Rosalind’s beside it.

Rosalind could be a comfort, but Minty’s stomach soured at the thought of it. It had been Mauveine who wanted Rosalind, not Minty. She had been Mauveine’s choice, and now, with Mauveine missing, Minty couldn’t find it in herself to even look at the Shellos’ capsule.

And perhaps that wasn’t fair, but neither was anything else.



Morning came and Estelle knocked on the door of Minty’s room. “Is there anyone awake in there?”

Regrettably, there was. Minty groaned and stuffed another cloud-like pillow over her head.

Estelle knocked again. “Cheryl has invited us to join her for breakfast.”

“Cheryl can— “ Minty paused in order to sit up, as well as to think of something suitably rude. “She can eat my socks.”

Estelle poked her head into the room to behold the lump of sniffles and misery that was her sister. She frowned. “I know that we’re all out of sorts today, you most of all, but we’re guests in this house, and before we fall to pieces, it might be a good idea to hear what Cheryl has to say. There’s no sense in being disrespectful.”

Minty flopped onto her belly, pouting silently.

“You can feed her your socks after breakfast.”

Minty whined into the quilt.

“If you must, that is.”

The whine trailed off into nothing, and Minty was left a flat, motionless body, lost in the mire of blankets. She pulled the quilt over her head. Her throat was full of scratchy paper. Her brain was a wet length of squeaking rope.

Estelle marched into the room and whipped the blanket aside. “Right, enough with this silliness!”

Minty squeaked, morning chill biting into her exposed flesh. “Hey!”

“You’re torn up about losing your bat friend,” Estelle said, “very well, but you could stand to grieve in a more composed manner.”

“Could not.”

“Could so. You are part of the family, and your actions speak for all of us. Now, get dressed and I’ll fix your hair.”

“You’ll— ?”

“I need the practice.”

Though the temptation to burrow again into the remaining blankets was overwhelming, Minty slung her legs over the side of the bed. Clearly this was some evil ploy on Estelle’s part. It would be just like her to pry at Minty while she was at her weakest, like a Fearow spearing into the belly of an overturned Shuckle. So Minty rose and went to sort out her clothes. Estelle wasn’t about to get the better of her.

Minutes later, they descended the stairs, Minty with a half-decent plait and Estelle with a sense of profound satisfaction.

Breakfast was taken in the solarium. The cage-like room protruded into the back garden, and a wall of trees laden with figy and yache berries built up around the glass walls, but sunlight still shone in from the ceiling, gilding the jams and jellies so that they glittered like precious stones.

Cheryl sat to one side of the table. She sipped her tea, toying with a piece of toast. Mira sat next to her with a plate already eaten to nothing. Gwen sat opposite them. She hadn’t eaten. They all turned to watch as Minty and Estelle took their seats.

“Are you hungry?” Mira asked, reaching for a little silver bell that sat next to the dish of butter.

Minty stared at the table.

Estelle glanced at her, then shook her head. “There are more important matters than food.” She supposed she ought to sympathize with Minty. Oddly enough, she knew what it was like to be rendered speechless by… something or other.

“That I cannot argue with,” said Cheryl. She set her tea aside and drew herself up, composing. She said, “Now that you’re all here, well… There is much I wish to say, but I would only be indulging myself. It would be impertinent of me to ask your forgiveness, and yet it’s my responsibility to ask for your understanding and cooperation.”

Gwen leaned an elbow on the table. “Cooperation with what exactly?”

“You three have been made privy to information that few others are. There’s no sense in keeping anything from you; the legends are true. We share this world with beasts of unimaginable power, and sometimes, upon occasion, those beasts might share their power with us. However, this truth is something that must be kept secret. You must swear— “

“I swear,” said Gwen, raising her right hand and lowering it just as quickly. “Are sea fairies real?”

Cheryl frowned. “Yes, uh, but they’re called Manaphy and Phione.”

“What about the vampiric mountain deer?”

“That rumour was started in a penny magazine, so no.”

“Invisible brain eaters?”

“More likely to be run of the mill ghosts than anything else.”

“Is the moon alive?”

Cheryl retreated behind her teacup, taking a long sip. “I don’t have all the answers for you, and I would discourage you from seeking them out. The end of your journey will either be fatal or bitterly disappointing.”

“Darkrai are real,” Estelle supplied.

“Mira told me as much,” said Cheryl. “If it sets your mind at ease, Cresselia are also quite real.”

Estelle fought the urge to ask exactly how much Mira had told her, and how much Mira remembered. Instead she said, “Forgive me but it does not.”

“The best thing you could do,” said Cheryl, “is to move on with your lives as best you can. I can promise you that what happened yesterday won’t ever happen again, and there are good people who work tirelessly to make sure of that, but there isn’t much else I can offer you beyond assurances.”

“Isn’t there?” This question was posed by the shallow spectre of Minty that had scrunched itself into the far chair.

Cheryl stared at the dregs in her cup. “I’m sorry.”

“But you’re not going to fix it. You won’t bring Mauveine back.”

“This isn’t something that can be fixed,” Cheryl said patiently. “I can’t go back once I’ve closed the door, and I have no control over where they go.”

“But you won’t try,” said Minty. Her voice was thin, reedy almost, but it rose as she went on. “You won’t try at all. You said you have legendary power— “

“I don’t have control of it! I wish I did.”

“You could try! You could open doors until you get close enough, and then, and then— “

“I know that it’s hard to accept— “

“What’s even the point of you if you just give up?”

Cheryl blinked. “That’s not fair.”

Damn right it wasn’t. Minty stood, and her hip jostled the table. The porcelain rattled violently. “She’s my friend! And now she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, Minty,” said Cheryl. “I truly am sorry, but, in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter nearly as much as you think it does.”

Minty’s mouth snapped shut. Then she marched from the room, fuming, all the sadness that had welled up in her replaced with something hot and virulent. Her feet carried her to the opposite side of the house, as far from the solarium as possible. She paced in the library, eyes full of angry tears.

Whenever Minty found herself at a loss, she helped, but there was no helping this. There would be no stubborn forward motion. There was nothing she could do. Cheryl wasn’t denying her out of malice, she was hopeless. It was all hopeless.

But Minty had blamed her! Minty had yelled in her face like some brattish, spoiled child.

That was a fitting description, though. More than anything she longed to fall into her father’s arms, to cry herself ragged, for this all to be over, for none of this to have happened at all.

And yet, what naive desires! She didn’t want this.

She reached the end of the library and turned again when a lump in her pocket hit her leg. Quickly, she drew it out: Rosalind’s capsule. Mauveine’s last, unwitting gift to her.

Damn it all, she didn’t want this!

She hurled the capsule against the wall and it struck a mirror, shattering it to pieces. Fragments of glass sprinkled the floor.

Minty breathed heavily. What was happening to her? She stared into the depths of her handiwork. The girl it reflected was fractured and wild, and in the doorway behind her stood a man with a wine-coloured jacket. She whirled around and the man became real.

Lucian paled.

“You,” said Minty, stalking towards him.

Lucian—grown man and member of the Sinnohvan Elite Four—took a step back. He ought to be better prepared for this, all things considered. He’d had years to anticipate this meeting that was all but inevitable, but Minty had surprised him. Cheryl hadn’t said anything about their guests being—

“I met you in the forest,” Minty said, “only you were much younger than you are now.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your name is Lucian, isn’t it?”

“That it is, but— “

“Yes, you were about my age.” Minty spoke rapidly as the pieces fell into place, a sensation that was completely alien to her but which her furious energy begged her to chase. “But you’re here now, older, which means that— Do you remember me? It was only yesterday for me, but for you it must have been, oh, let’s see…”

She paused to ponder an exact number, and Lucian had a chance to cut in. “You’re saying that we’ve met before?”

“It was Cheryl. Just yesterday she sent me somewhere in time, and I met you. It had to be you.”

Lucian’s eyebrows pinched. “Wait a moment…”

“Did you find a Zubat after I disappeared?” Hope bloomed in her chest. “Do you remember me at all?”

Lucian stared, and the mystery that had shifted the course of his entire life stared back. It was her. Oh God, it was her? “Of course I do,” he said.

Minty fell apart into relieved laughter. The clouds parted and the world made sense again. “And my Zubat friend, you must know where she is.”

“I found her afterwards, yes, and I entrusted her to my friend, but you must understand that it’s been almost thirty years since then.”

“What do you mean?” Minty’s smile persisted.

“I believe that particular beast passed away ten years ago.”

A stray shard of mirror dislodged itself from the frame and smashed on the floor.
Yay! Short, manageable chapters are back. Idk what to say about this one since it really is just what it says on the tin. I can't wait to coherently elaborate on it once Minty has actually had time to think it over, but next will be an Estelle chapter, I think.

I've really been enjoying the theories people have been coming up with, and I have to wonder what people might pick up from this chapter. That said, I'll also be relieved once we leave the mysterious plot territory. It's a bit stressful!
 

Whozawhatcha

i have too many projects
Pokédex No.
486
Caught
Jul 12, 2019
Messages
484
Nature
Lonely
Pokémon Type
Fire, Flying
Hey, you know how we all kinda do this thing where we're like, "Wow, the author doesn't care about the feelings of their characters at all. How can they be so cruel? How can they delight in putting them through such pain, with such vivid description?" and then we adopt them? Yes, thank you, no stop your prying fingers, Minty is mine now and you cannot have her back, fuck off you evil she devil.

On the other hand, please envision me at my computer, propped up on an elbow leaning my cheek in my hand with the biggest moon eyes while I read your work, because uh. I really don't know how you do it. I'm like, sitting over here, freshly finished with a chapter thinking it's good stuff, and then I read this and I'm like, wow, ladies, we've got some work to do. Your descriptions are always so lovely and vivid, and you elicit so much with so little and I'm not sure I'll ever understand what witchcraft you perform to do that. Like. Fuck man.

In particular, I liked, "like a Fearow spearing into the belly of an overturned Shuckle" and " “I truly am sorry, but, in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter nearly as much as you think it does.” " Like, fucking Christ Cheryl, I feel like that's NOT the sort of shit you say to someone who's just lost someone?? Like, Cheryl, goddamn, can you imagine saying that about someone who lost a whole ass person? Mauvine was a loved one, holy fuck, pump the brakes, please be a LITTLE more delicate. (And besides, Mauvine led a wonderfully impactful life, so yeah, in the grand scheme of things, she did matter to the people she impacted. I would DEARLY love for Mauvine to become a polarizing force for Minty and her team, much like Vinko's death became the rally point in SL.)

Also, I was vibrating out of my seat seeing that little spat with Lovewell and Cheryl!! Oh I'm so excited. I love how you do so much worldbuilding with even just dialogue and implications of people knowing one another. Goddamn, teach me your ways, let me do that. How do you get people to say such things that imply so much and yet don't tell the readers almost anything? How do you get your characters to argue so well? Please, spare some writing skills senpai.

God, it was short, but it packed a goddamn punch, all right? 10/10 again, might be my favorite chapter so far.

EDIT: holy fuck i almost forgot to mention looker asking if anyone was clipped! "Clipped" is SUCH an excellent fucking term for what happened to Mauvine, excellent work, what the fuck

EDIT 2: hey if cheryl is called "Wayfarer" because she can travel through time, are you being cheeky with lovewell being called "Looker" because he has to look after all these assholes and not-assholes who have crazy legendary pokemon powers?
 
Last edited:

SprungGeoduck

Conqueror of the Saffron Gym
Team Alpha
Pokédex No.
120
Caught
Jun 21, 2019
Messages
72
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
She/her
Pokémon Type
Electric, Beautiful
HI LOOKER

HI LUCIAN

also how dare you do this to minty. she does not deserve this

keep it up!
 

Dee

THIS IS MY HAPPY FACE
Writer
Team Alpha
Pokédex No.
147
Caught
Jun 26, 2019
Messages
765
Location
Zion National Park
Nature
Sassy
Pronouns
They/Them
Pokémon Type
Bug, Clever
Pokédex Entry
A regular writer of fanfics and other works, this pokemon loves puns, bugs, and the outdoors.
Short but sweet--the chapter!

The fallout of the past few is going to be harsh on Minty. I felt so badly for her, and also weirdly appreciated Estelle's attempts to help her sister? It's not how I would have gone about it, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Estelle does have a heart of gold in there... somewhere. Deep deep deep down.

Lucian fascinates me, in that this is the husband of the Champion, a powerful and influential trainer in his own right, and he apparently knows that there are supernatural shenanigans going on in the world but of course he does, he and Zelda and Cynthia were getting up to SOMETHING on Mt. Coronet you mark my words but he mostly comes across as this chill... doofus? Though the fact that he dropped the harsh news on Minty gentler than Cheryl did is blowing my mind. " I truly am sorry, but, in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter nearly as much as you think it does" like DAMN Cheryl, she literally lost her pet/best friend YESTERDAY, please chill. I'm not saying she's wrong given the scope of the powers involved (and fucking around with time in particularly seems a really efficient way to end the multiverse) but like, there's breaking news gently, y'know?

Hopefully Minty can come around and love Rosalind on her own terms and not just as an extension of Mauvine. Looking forward to getting my heart ripped out by you again 💔
 

Thirteenth

Number XIV
Writer
Pokédex No.
14
Caught
May 20, 2019
Messages
1,719
Nature
Quiet
Pronouns
She/Her
Pokémon Type
Fairy, Ice
Pokédex Entry
The reason she guides people all the way down to the mountain's base is that she wants them to hurry up and leave.
“Officer Lovewell?” Gwen said.

Cheryl froze. A trickle of ice traced down her neck. She positively glowed with the remnants of Celebi’s power: the grass-like sway of her hair, the confident set of her posture, the unwanted alacrity in her eyes. And more damning than that were the girls behind her, Minty with her reddened eyes and the other two, shellshocked.

Lovewell—as he was known these days—stared at her.

Cheryl stared back, horrified.
“You brought those girls with you—I saw the looks on their faces. Was anyone left behind? Was anyone clipped?”

Cheryl had no answer for him.

“Of all the brainless…” Lovewell sighed, a disgusted sound. “I told them you shouldn’t be left to do as you please.”

“Are you suggesting I be detained?” Cheryl asked.

“You can’t take this personally.”

“Funny, since this seems rather personal to you—
Oh I wanna learn more about these two so bad, holy shit 👀🍿 I was immediately like "Cheryl's done this to one of Looker's Pokemon/friends/someone before hasn't she"


Poor Minty though... The whole "bad things don't happen to good people but I thought I was a good person??" thing. One of those formative moments when you realize the world doesn't work in the simple and just way that you thought it did. I worry that this is gonna really sour her view on anything and everything, and I wonder if she might take on a more cynical perspective on things in general. She was the sweet, carefree one of the three, and who knows how long that'll continue for...

Which, kind of related to that, it was definitely interesting to see Minty be more negative and then see Estelle be a bit more positive/decent, stepping in for Minty when she couldn't speak at the table. Idk, just changes in their characters and their dynamics after traumatic events, they're good to see.
 

SayleeK

Johto League Champion
Pokédex No.
260
Caught
Jul 1, 2019
Messages
1,057
Location
Scrivener
Nature
Careful
Pronouns
She/her
Pokémon Type
Fire, Fairy
Pokédex Entry
Between long periods of dormant slumber, this writer rises again for periods of activity that leave piles of dead fictional Pokemon in their wake
“Minty had cried herself empty long ago” ah, I see, as usual, my heart fucking shatters for Minty

The contrast between the exhilarating flow of Cheryl’s power and the mood around her is beautifully painted

Oooft, that is a tense confrontation with the cop >_< One of those scenarios where he’s not wrong, he’s just being a dick about it

“Bad things didn’t happen to good people, and she was a good person, wasn’t she?” Oh Minty. Oh honey. Oh my poor naive baby girl. I want to scream and cry and hug her Q_Q

“She can eat my socks” sweetheart no that’s… not even a good threat XP

What a non-sequitur “I’ll fix your hair, I need the practice” is from Estelle XD

GWEN, oh my god, vampiric deer and invisible brain eaters adfgdf I love this girl’s priorities “Is the moon alive” GWEN… the worst part is that all of these seem completely valid theories in the context of Pokemon tbh Like… Sawsbuck knows Horn Leech. Some ghost-types might well be brain eaters. Lunala? Darkrai? Cresselia? All moon-adjacent Pokemon!

Cheryl: “Please forget about this and move on with your lives, this will never happen again”
Me, a reader of fiction: Ohohohohoho! You thought, you thought!

“What’s even the point of you if you just give up?” Oh damn, Minty CAN be savage after all

Ohno, Minty DOES get to find out what happened to Mauveine… and nothing but pain awaits her DX That shard of glass shattering on the floor makes the same sound as my heart Q_Q
 

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