“Saccharine.”

As perception and consciousness rushes back into Saccharine's grasp, the world has been rearranged. For a moment of unadjusted eyesight, it's a black slab, slashed by a white glare - then it resolves into shapes, sounds, and an understandable geometry. Beneath him, many metres below, the sound of water. Immediately beneath his claws, criss-crossing metal wires form a sturdy bridge or platform, the wires strung out diagonally between thick aluminium beams - or something similarly light, at least, judging by how easily it shudders at even a mere step of Devi's.

Speaking of which, she's standing ahead of him, left hand wrapped around a torchlight, its beam made visible by the air thick with moisture, light splashed about the area, illuminating her with the scatter enough to clearly make out her face and posture. Her right hand is wrapped around her weapon. She doesn't look like she's just about to strike him, but the lashes are visible in the darkness, shimmering a threatening, toxic purple.

For a moment, there's merely a tense silence - then whatever inner debate she was having with herself resolves: “I have no idea if you understand me enough for this - but Viracocha could have died. You could have died. Why did you disobey my instructions?” Truth be told, she doesn't know what she's expecting even if the pokémon can understand her. An apology, rendered in Sundisquama body language? It's absurd - but the alternative is keeping Saccharine in his pokéball indefinitely. She had to attempt to communicate with him, disabuse him of the notion that he could override her command.

The first thing immediately evident is that the frigid pain that had coursed through his bones is gone, as is the harsh sting of sand on his skin, the visceral memory of the battle just finished together with phantom sensations dancing vaguely at the edge of his perception the only clues that it had actually happened. That and the continuing sense of euphoria still hammering in his veins. He must have gotten healed while he was in his ball, he reasons.

The surroundings are strange, different. There's no earth under his feet, only metal wires making him vaguely uncomfortable. It's nice and moist here, though, even if it's also dark aside from the reflections from Devi's torch. His vines waver back and forth, in attempt to burn off his excess energy.

It's hard to tell how much time has passed; there's no sun or night sky here to clue him in. But Devi is still upset at him - so it can't have been too long, can it? She didn't used to stay upset for long, but that was before the mysterious change. Who knows what grudges the new Devi might hold. He listens to her and tries to make sense of her words.

He could have died. Yes, he knows that, that's why he'd clung to the Kabutops - either the ice would have devoured him, or the sandstorm would have. He remembers that he'd been terrified, even if the notion is so difficult to fathom in his current emotional state, still brimming with energy from the consumed blood. He utters a note of confusion, struggling for a moment longer to understand her question before succumbing to the distractions of a new place and letting his gaze wander across the traces of carved stone in the background, then to the wireframe supporting him, sniffing at it cautiously, suspicious of its true intentions.

The lashes of the whip drag an inch across the metal framework they're stood upon, the grating sound dulled by the moisture and distorted by the echoes from the smooth walls - but for now, it doesn't lash out at him. A small swarm of insects dances at the edge of Saccharine's perception, little, bite-sized snacks not caring for the danger they're in, perhaps even totally oblivious to the existence of Sundisquamas. Devi growls lowly, though there's a shaky component to the sound, as if she were struggling a bit with some deep-seated unease. “Why did you disobey my command?” she repeats the question, a little more forcefully this time.

The repeated question nags at Saccharine's attention. This is important, whenever humans say something twice it's always important. He blinks, giving the deciphering another try; after a few moments he thinks he understands what she's asking. Had he disobeyed her? His tendrils scrunch up, coiling like springs while he tries to recall when he'd done such a thing. The battle starts to play over again in his memory; he ran forward, whipped at the Kabutops, and then… then there was the freezing death eating at his bones, hollowing him out. And he clung to the Kabutops's warmth for dear life, but… had Devi been shouting something? Maybe she had. Maybe that's why she was so upset?

Yes, that had to be it. That had to be why she was so upset, and why she's asking him about it now. He'd inadvertently disobeyed some order of hers while trying to cling for his life. It's still confusing, but at least it explains her anger and gives him a way to make her less angry. He crouches down, vines sweeping back behind him, head nearly touching the wireframe mesh beneath him in a submissive display, wide, crimson eyes looking up at her apologetically. A soft, hopeful chirp spills from him, seeking forgiveness for what had been a simple mistake.

Relief crawls into Devi's posture, starting slowly at her tense shoulders. Even in the dim light, there was no way of misinterpreting that posture - Saccharine is sorry. Does that mean he understands? She's not certain of it, but the sight reminds her so much of better times that it morphs into a compelling urge to soothe the confused pokémon. For a moment, she simply holds still, breathing, calming herself, having psyched herself up so much for this moment before, running her options through her head ad nauseaum. This wasn't a bad outcome. Saccharine wasn't some… lost cause. She eases herself down into a crouch, gaze meandering between torch and whip, passing both into her right hand, then reaching toward Saccharine with her left. A slight tremble of her arm betrays that it isn't easy, but she wants to try; there's no use being paranoid for the rest of her life. The warm expression on her face is tentative but sincere.

Saccharine's expression lights up with recognition at that gesture, tentative as it is. For the first time since everything started changing, he can finally see the Devi he knows and remembers, the human he used to play with, his friend and companion. Has his old master finally come back? Is she finally happy with him again? Hope mixes with euphoria to form an unbreakable enthusiasm. It must be true. A series of bubbly chirps spills from him, and he steps forward, nudging his snout against her outstretched fingertips, giving her an affectionate nuzzle. She's smiling again. He's not sure how or why, but nothing else matters. Reflexively, vines drift forward, snaking into a loose, affectionate hug around her outstretched arm.

There's no conscious thought flickering across her psyche at the gesture - instinct guides her hand entirely. With a curt cry that echoes mutedly through the narrow, moist chasm, she's half fallen, half scrambled back, shaft of life veering to the side, arm torn free of the tendrils in alarm. An instant later, left arm anchoring her, preventing her from falling onto her back on the aluminium bridge, light and purple lashes both snap forward toward him, briefly blinding him as the bite of poison drives itself into his shoulder, neck and a point midway along his tail, searing as fire a short way along his own blood stream, phantom but wholly convincing sensation.

Devi's cry is echoed a moment later, a high-pitched screech of pain torn from Saccharine's lungs as the wires bite at his skin. Eyes squeeze shut and muscles tense as the illusory poison spreads through his veins, burning his insides, deadly and horrifying. His limbs collapse, and he rolls onto his side, long limbs curling in against his body. This is even worse than the ice beam, it feels like his insides are on fire and he's going to die and how could Devi possibly do this he thought she was his friend.

There's no soothing follow-up, no carrot to the stick, not this time. Instead, she's scrambling further back now that lucid thought's returned to her, eyes wide, until one shoulder comes to grind against part of the platform's railing. She wants to shout: 'I told you not to do that!' but she isn't sure she was ever that clear about it. Was she? The memory of the pokémon's misguided attempt at affection back in Togi is fuzzy, lost in the haze of past adrenalin. She'd shouted, but she didn't remember her words.

She holds herself still for a moment, staring at the quivering form. A part of her points out she should feel a little more compassion for the confused creature, but it's ignored, her own confusion and fear overriding any empathy she might feel. Panting in distress, she pushes herself to a stand, keeping her eyes on the Sundisquama, beam of light only rarely leaving Saccharine's form despite the lurched, awkward scramble that's raising her to her feet. “Bad!” she says, voice falling short of authoritative and coming across as fearful instead. “I am not food!” And then she's chuckling, a nervous, broken sound, her own mind pointing out how ridiculous she's sounding.

A shudder passes through the Sundisquama, fear and pain and terrible nausea refusing to fade. Devi's words slowly filter into his consciousness, their meaning taking root in his mind. Food? Of course Devi's not food, why would she be? Devi's his friend, he'd never want to hurt her - even if that feeling might no longer be mutual.

At the sound of Devi's laughter, a wave of sudden terror washes over Saccharine, sense of dread momentarily dwarfing his physical pain. The old Devi, his friend and companion, has vanished again, replaced by a trainer who looks and sounds and smells the same but isn't her - and the thought that she might have just disappeared forever is too much for him to bear. A keen escapes him, and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squinting in the light of the torch, unable to make out Devi's features in the glare. There has to be some way to get her back, he reasons desperately. If he shows her how much he cares for her, she'll have to stop hurting him. He takes a few cautious steps forward, then breaks into a run towards one of Devi's ankles, hoping to get close enough to give it an affectionate nuzzle before the whip has a chance to come down on him.

A soft cry escapes Devi before anything else, quiver racing down her left arm, uselessly, as if some part of her were advising restraint against all odds - only to be overwhelmed. An instant later, jerking back a bit further by in part sidling along the railing, the torchlight-whip conglomerate whips around again, guided infinitely more by instinct than any rational desire to keep the pokémon at bay. The tips of the whip almost catch against the platform, skittering against it and losing some momentum, but the bite of the whip is only barely in the speed of its strike. A bundle of feverish fire punches into Saccharine's side, flowering between his organs like a fungal wildfire, for the first instant giving the appearance of his innards turned to scars, a mesh of hard, dead cells - then it resolves into the burn of venom in time with the rhythm of his rapid heartbeat.

A bloodcurdling screech spills from the Sundisquama; sheer momentum carries him a few more steps before he collapses onto his right side once more, cringing and curling his limbs against his body, tendrils shivering and folding in on themselves, trapping occasional random gnats. The screech slowly dampens into whimpering noises accompanying each exhale, shivers of pain rippling through Saccharine's body with alarming frequency. His head tucks against his chest, eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling freely from his eyes and finding their way through the gaps in the floor below them.

She hates him. That's the only explanation for this pain; the last of her love she might have once held for him had just evaporated. A soft, mourning chirr merges with the sounds spilling from him briefly, before it's cut short by a wince of pain. Between the fire burning up his insides and the emotional trauma of discovering that one of his closest human friends hates him, he finds himself wishing that Devi would put him back in his pokéball - at least then he'd have the tranquility of non-existence… until she calls him out again.

Her breath is shaking. She's torn between pity and rage - how stupid can Saccharine be? And yet, it's still Saccharine; she can't just turn off her care, even if it's opaque to him now. She can't just strike him until he runs away or lies broken on the platform. She can't fathom that he's some kind of monster, regardless of the spikes of instinct screaming as much. Trembling fingers fish for his pokéball. “Don't touch me,” she hisses, eyes narrowing slightly, coming across as more fearful than angry - but it's equally clear she's trying for latter effect, trying to raise her voice, trying to be some kind of authority. Perhaps noticing just what bad a job she's done of her intention, she does raise her voice, without losing the venom: “Don't ever touch me again.” There's enough pause to Saccharine's perception for him to register two pants from her - then the hint of a surer motion touches her form, the beginnings of a rise to her feet… and the world vanishes from Saccharine's perception.