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plot:mawne:2019-09-23

It was two days later that she found out that she had left a positive impression. Yarver Bakema had invited her to a hike through the craggy landscape near the Vale bay - it involved a bit of low-tier climbing, but he led the way, they were firmly connected to each other to avoid any sudden fall, and their pokémon were allowed to fuss over them.

In Yarver's case, the pokémon went by the name Cerise and was a Primeape, clambering ahead with a playful ease and glancing back with suspicion, as though expecting mere humans to fail at a landscape like this, even though it wasn't, in absolute terms, all that tricky.

The worst they had to handle were some ledges that were a little on the thin side, and the occasional generous gap where stones had weathered and split. It took only minimal attention to master these challenges.

Eventually they came to a secluded beach, the sand at home in the tiny crescent an eerie, almost perfect white, tinted blue by the shadows it was cast in. The ocean lapped lazily at the sanctuary as Yarver sat down in the sand.

“And now, we wait,” he smiled to Adelaide.

It wasn't perfectly clear what they were waiting for - perhaps her prospective employer, perhaps simply for the tides to change to let them wander somewhere currently inaccessible, or perhaps just enough time to pass before they moved on, losing anyone that might have trailed after them.

But they didn't need to wait for long.

A small, pink pokémon popped into existence, hovering across the ocean waves at the very edge of the shadows. It looked a little like a tiny, pink-furred Persian with an exaggeratedly long tail, pointier ears, and large, curious eyes. “Mew,” it remarked, as if in hesitant greeting.

Mew,” Yarver echoed, smiling - whether it was to echo the greeting, to identify the pokémon by name, or some kind of simple but secret handshake, was impossible to tell at first. “Thanks for coming. This is Miss Mawne,” he gestured.

'Mew' twisted its tail into a lazy corkscrew, then drifted closer to Adelaide, forepaws clasped to its chest.

She wasn't sure what value Farsight had when clambering over rocks, but at least if she fell and broke her leg the Natu could go for help. Given the help was Yarver and had been physically roped to her this was likely of limited value, but Farsight stressed less if she gave her a defined task to do. And all of her other pokemon were, if anything, even less suited to hiking around on a mountain.

If this turned out to be a reasonable portion of the job she might have to fix that, Adelaide decided. And definitely buy herself some better boots.

Still, this was proving much better than the last time she'd climbed a mountain. Yarver was pleasant company, the mountain had been less terrifyingly 'up', and a secluded cove was a far nicer destination than a half-ruined temple containing the second coming of Sirius.

One thing the SS Anne had taught her was an appreciation for rare downtimes on a pretty beach. When Yarver called a halt, she gratefully settled cross legged on the sand, silently offered Farsight her pokeball if she wanted it - nice as the gym leader was, he was still a stranger and it had been a lot of socialisation for her - and tucked the ball back into her pocket when Farsight instead settled with emphasis in her lap.

Adelaide hadn't been expecting a pokemon as the vangard of whomever they were meeting, but Yarver clearly had. She stroked Farsight's back to soothe her as the strange pokemon approached. It was an unfamiliar species, possibly a Psychic by the easy levitation, but there were many pokemon she didn't know. Even, shamefully, ones native to Sehto.

Normally this was when she'd be asking the trainer and/or local guide if there was anything she needed to know about interacting with them. Yarver, instead, was offering introductions. Alright. “Hello,” Adelaide said was a smile, raising her other arm and offering her loosely cupped hand to the pokemon in case it wanted to perch or sniff.

The pokémon ignored her hand but had no concerns about personal space, floating up to a few inches close to Adelaide, then flitting about her body as though to inspect her. For an absurd moment, the near-methodical scrutiny inspired the laughable notion that this pokémon might turn out to be her mysterious employer.

Then the moment ended in an abrupt thunderclap of altered scenery.

Yarver, Adelaide, and a selection of sand from the beach rested on a surface of black, weathered rock, in the corner of two equally weathered remnants of walls. Most of Adelaide's vision was taken up the sky, a bizarre, clashing postcard backdrop to a foreground of rock and hardy shrubbery.

A few feet away was a single chair, hosting a familiar person, a less familiar pokémon having a slender muzzle partly buried in his black hair. Jagannath had folded his cloak partly over his lap, one arm tucked under the garment, the other loosely curved about the neck of his pokémon companion, fingers in a long, flowing, almost aetherial plume.

The pokémon was almost disconcerting - with lizard-like features, estimatable at about the size of a human shoulder height if it bothered to stand up in what was likely a bipedal, bird-like posture, its skin was a mesmerising pattern of tight labyrinthine, silver pathways overlaying a colour indistinguishable from black at first glance.

Jagannath, on the other hand, was just plain disconcerting by context.

The pokémon's feather-like plume lapped into an arbitrary direction, the wind not nearly sufficient to explain the motion. Blue eyes gradually opened from their partly closed state - with reluctance, the pokémon drew its muzzle out of Jagannath's hair to look straight at Adelaide, its expression inscrutable.

Jagannath, quietly staring across at her with a cuttingly cold scepticism, was evidently leaving first verbal reactions to her.

She prided herself on being hard to startle, but a pokemon abruptly Teleporting her, the person sitting a short distance away from her, AND a reasonable chunk of the beach all without contact? Definitely a Psychic pokemon. Definitely dangerous. Definitely worthy of staggering to her feet with a cry of alarm, mind running through disaster scenarios seeking something better than “hide behind the Gym Leader it's his job to deal with terrifying wild pokemon attacking people”.

Farsight's alarmed chattering suggested she'd realised at the same time as her trainer that actually, this wasn't a wild pokemon at all. Of course the leader of the Psychic gym Taqnateh would have the ludicrously powerful mystery pinkmon. Probably two ludicrously powerful Psychic-mons - the pokemon attempting to eat his hair seemed more that type than Ice, but come to think of it there was nothing stating that a Gym Leader had to stay on theme, so it could be anything.

Clearly turning around and nearly falling headfirst back DOWN the peak of Thorn had actually been an excellent decision, because while Adelaide was to this day astonished she'd managed to gather seven gym badges, Jagannath's team could kick her from one side of the island to the other. Apparently even without his direct guidance.

“Shh,” Adelaide gently hushed Farsight, gathering the scared Natu into her arms before she attempted to Teleport both of them back out. Although maybe that was an idea she should consider. Farsight had been agitated by Jagannath before - it was one of the reasons she'd decided not to try her luck and chalk the whole climb up to a regretable hiking decision - but this level of panic usually meant imminent danger. Still. Dropping outside the building she could do; dropping back in Vale would likely hurt one or both of them. If it came down to it, better to clear the building and let Edward FLY them back.

Still. Even if she was uneasy around Jagannath, it was possible half of THAT was his battle-drama persona (there were far FAR too many trainers she'd met who turned into hams the moment the pokeballs started flying) and, more pointedly, she trusted Yarver. Not one person in Vale had had a poor thing to say about him, and there weren't any rumours in Ehqaj about either of them, so… well. She could leave without assistance if required. It was only polite to listen to the finer details of the (increasingly unorthodox) job offering first.

“Good afternoon, Mr Jagannath. My apologies for my pokemon,” who was now quietly but pointedly biting one of her fingers, “is a little startled by our journey. I appreciate not having to climb the volcano,” Adelaide said with a polite nod, before a curious: “Do you always conduct interviews this way?”

There was no rapid-fire response of someone in dire need of appearing witty. Instead, he brought his hands together loosely and ran the fingers of his left hand along his right as though to knead them into shape, not for a moment taking his eyes off Adelaide.

Somewhere at the edge of Adelaide's perception, Cerise had clambered to Yarver's side and slumped into a sit, evidently not in the least disturbed by the circumstances - more interested in pettings, perhaps, than where they'd been displaced to.

“Yarver seems rather convinced you'd perform admirably as an aide,” Jagannath remarked, for the moment evidently opting to side-step the question. “Whereas I am not entirely sure you'd be any more willing now to accept high stakes than when you were coming up here of your own accord.”

Despite the gravity of the statement, his tone was quiet and contemplative first and foremost, though his scepticism was still dominating his body language.

“To answer your question,” he finally said. “I don't, albeit by merit of you being the first, and hopefully the only. It's Yarver's business to decide at what point candidates are interesting enough to let them cross the point of no return.” His gaze fell on the Natu and he smiled at it, expression one as if of friendly encouragement. His words didn't fit. “Please don't think it isn't.”

Yarver touched a hand to Adelaide's shoulder. “Hear him out,” he suggested, tone implying that he knew full well it was a tall order.

Internally she bristled at the 'high stakes' jab, then decided actually that WAS something that needed to be addressed. “Mr Jagannath, one of the traits I have previously required in my positions, one I suspect would also be needed in whatever flavour of aide you require, is the ability to accurately judge high stakes. I know my abilities, I know my pokemon, and I know that even with multiple years more experience under my belt that you would wipe the floor with me in a pokemon battle. Accepting your terms would be to risk my pokemon on the hopes a chunk of your gym ceiling fell and knocked you unconscious, and sunk costs fallacy at its finest.”

The reminder was doing NOTHING for her nerves, and neither was Jagannath's implications that she was 'past the point of no return'. It was, truly, only Yarver's presence that was stopping her re-enacting her previous act of thanking the final gym leader for his time and showing herself out. Hearing him out seemed marginally less dangerous than provoking him.

Ye gads, this really WAS Keith Sirius all over again.

Still. Adelaide did not believe Yarver intended to allow an “accident” to befall her. If only for the brutally practical reason that the owner of the inn she was staying at was expecting her back and would ask questions, and that if Yarver DID intend for a tragedy to befall her it would happen near Vale, with a convenient cliff she could slip and tumble over. It was far, far harder to explain what she was doing on top of a volcano surrounded by beach sand.

The Taqnateh gym leader gave a shrug so light it bordered on imperceptible. “I appreciate your knowledge of the sunk cost fallacy, even given it's been a very convenient lever for me over the years. But don't you think it would have been fair to put your own life on the line for a change, after dragging those of your pokémon through seven gym battles on Sehto?”

Yarver grimaced in reflex as if struck by a whip. “Can we leave that for later?” he asked, a mild distress in his voice, as though this line of conversation was taking on a distinctly threatening shape.

“No,” Jagannath said, firmly. “She's capable, clever and polite but none of those traits are in any question, or you wouldn't have brought her here. But she didn't answer for what was nearly a full circuit. I'll address it now - not on petulant whim, but because that is what predominantly decides where precisely this is going.”

What she wanted to do was turn to Yarver, remind him he'd promised this mystery employer was NOT organised crime, and demand some answers. She did not. That would be unprofessional behaviour, and she prided herself on being professional. Also that seemed a very dangerous provocation.

And really, what could she do? She was with the two most powerful trainers in Sehto, who were armed with at least one and likely two pokemon capable of killing her. Against which she had… a Natu. And for all she loved Farsight, her most profound skill was 'run away' which could be very useful, but again. Gym leaders. She'd have to run all the way to (urgh) Johto and she'd really REALLY prefer to avoid that.

Picking her words carefully, Adelaide attempted to address Jagannath's… she couldn't even call it an argument, she felt she was missing huge chunks of the conversation. “I do not feel that lives, of any description, should be staked on a pokemon battle. I feel that if a pokemon is critically injured in a battle, then at best it shows a lack of skill or severe misjudging of a situation. So I do not feel that the low risk they faced is a fair comparison to the extremely high probability of me losing a battle against you, and I'd never want to place my team in that position.” She paused. “Even in a hypothetical situation where a trainer's life could be ethically gambled in such a way.”

Adelaide was extremely uncomfortable with the implications being raised here, and hoped it was some form of test, to judge her mettle, because she was increasingly feeling that by declining the Taqnateh challenge she'd mortally offended its gym leader. And also, on a far less comfortable note, wondering if so many of the trainers assumed lost to exposure or the Roaring Hollow had actually made it to their destination after all. But she couldn't SAY that. If she was wrong, it was a dire insult that risked her well being. And if she was RIGHT, he'd likely kill her for it. One of the first rule her former employer had taught her about cut throat business was always, always leave your opposition a method to gracefully back away, or be prepared for them to try and destroy you. This wasn't the place it was supposed to apply.

“I feel like you're missing a very important point, Miss Mawne - perhaps deliberately, though I'll give you the benefit of doubt for now that you're sincerely confused. Let me restate: Lives 'of any description' are staked on a pokémon battle, you see,” Jagannath observed, tone chilled. “The lives of the pokémon.”

Yarver interrupted with a gentle clearing of his throat - but his voice turned out to be quite firm, evenly delivered: “Jagdish - I can tell you want to turn this into a Council session. Yet you don't have her consent and, even if you had it, surely this is not your role? If you're not willing to defend her, stop. Please don't fill in for the absentees.”

The gymleader's gaze swerved to Yarver for a moment of bitterness - if looks could kill, it might have been a lethal blow. Lips pressed to a thin line as his attention crept back to Adelaide, reluctantly softening; whatever the point of contention was, it wasn't the fine detail that Yarver just told another gym leader to lay off on his crusade.

“A fair admonishment,” he yielded, openly, although he anchored his sceptical gaze back on Adelaide, paying no direct attention to Yarver. “Perhaps we'll leave it for later.”

Fully aware that most of their best-kept secrets were now irreversibly well out in the open, albeit in disconnected fragments, he folded his hands in his lap. “Miss Mawne, what precisely do you think it is I do up here?” he asked, finally. Can you put two and two together? “You're intelligent,” he coaxed her, allowing a light smile to creep onto his face, at first embedded in a body language that made it feel more foreboding than friendly, although his air gradually followed suit, much as though forgiveness had a physiological process to go through. “Think for a few minutes. We're in no rush. And I assure you, I've had some very creative insults slung my way - 'serial killer' would perhaps amuse me, but hardly offend.”

What was this 'Council' he spoke of? A meeting of gymleaders? Ask yesterday's Adelaide if that was plausible and she'd hesistate, because sheer logistics could make it tricky to meet even once a year. But a pokemon had just Teleported her to somewhere on the heights of Taqnateh with no sign of strain, and THAT solved many of the distance issues.

Something still seemed off with those assumptions. And here was Jagannath, outright inviting her to speculate, in an increasingly twisted employment exam.

“You kill trainers, or at least you allow them to be killed,” Adelaide began, simply. Yes, that thought was terrifying, but he'd all but confirmed it and there was no value in beating around the bush. The only way out was through. “The volcano is treacherous, so I can't hazard how many; perhaps a rare few, perhaps nearly everyone who challenges you.” She was not going to think about that.

She did not have sufficient information to speculate, so she was going to pointedly assume it was on the 'not many' side just to avoid collapsing into a gibbering wreck. She didn't know many people who'd done more than two gyms, of course it was unlikely she'd personally know someone with all eight badges. They'd probably be some flavour of trainer-crazy and in recent years she'd been avoiding that.

“But the deaths don't happen blindly. You're… prodding for something. Emphasising the risks to pokemon's lives. So… trainers who've failed to withdraw in a timely manner? Trainers who are excessively aggressive, or reckless? Maliciousness? There was a group in Kanto who were deliberately staking out pokemon, in the literal staking sense, as bait to lure in predators. But Sehto doesn't have a unified authority to hand such perpetrators over to.”

The larger cities had their own police forces, of course, but they weren't unified; if someone fled Nightclaw for Ehqaj, the police wouldn't chase them across the island. They'd call… well, they'd call Rose, and ask the gymleader to help. It struck her then that she couldn't really TELL anyone about Jagannath because the only people who could directly sanction a gymleader were the other gymleaders, and Yarver was in this up to his eyebrows.

This wasn't the time and place to pace, but Adelaide knew there was something off about her hypothesis. Keith Sirius and Terry Kiran didn't fit. Well. Maybe Keith did, he'd mostly menaced HER and come to think of it never directly threatened to kill her pokemon, only battled in a particularly dangerous location. If anything had gone wrong it could be argued to be on her. But Kiran? If she hadn't honed her reflexes stopping more than one pokemon (or trainer) from falling overboard, Taio would be crippled AT BEST. That didn't mesh with a desire to punish trainers for cruelty.

…please, please, let this not be a conflict between two factions of gym leaders, she did not want to end up in a territorial spat between two gangs EVEN IF they were arguably not organised crime by virtue of being the local law enforcement!

As she spoke of murder, Jagannath looked almost as though he was about to stop her - perhaps to say 'I didn't say the insult was accurate, just amusing', or something much like it - but as she began to entertain the idea that it just as likely didn't need to happen often and delved into potential reasons strikingly close to the truth, the associated 'yes, but' tension began to evaporate.

It was Yarver who solved for x, evidently uninterested in letting this conversation play out in this form. “Understand, the gym circuit is merely a cultural relic from Kanto and Johto,” he said, softly. “It's an extensive ritual that makes pokémon battle for the prestige of their 'trainers'.

“As you likely know, the Sehto gym leaders teach everyone who ever seeks their guidance - and many do - to be mindful of the lives and well-being of their pokémon. Pokémon battles are best avoided. Sparring matches for training are certainly fine, lest you be wholly unprepared if someone less savoury makes an attempt on your life or property with their pokémon, in turn.

“But there is no purpose to the gym circuit, not here, not in Kanto, not in Johto. On Sehto the culture has shifted to circuiter scepticism, yet some people still insist on battling to get badges to pin to their chests, regardless. They are, thankfully, increasingly rare.

“Yet with their increasing rarity, our tolerance of them gradually shrinks - the standard excuse that they were conforming to social pressure or that they knew no better no longer holds.” Yarver let his gaze, previously lingering on some disconnected point in the distance, drift over to Adelaide, a subtle apology in his body language.

“We let them learn and give them time to think. Most people who start the circuit here on Sehto stop of their own accord after at most two or three gyms. This is acceptable; those people are left well alone.

“But it almost never happens that someone has some form of enlightenment after seven of them. And it also almost never happens that a person that has come that far refuses the challenge of the eighth, the prerequisite for a trial.”

“Which brings us to the reason Jagdish…” - there was that name again - ”…appears upset with you. You nearly completed a circuit, but gave him and the Sehto Legendaries no chance to try you for it.”

While Yarver spoke, Jagdish was occasionally shooting him a look along the lines of 'I can speak for myself' and 'spoil my fun, why don't you', but did not interrupt. Whenever he looked at Adelaide, there was a curiosity with a flavour of scepticism in his eyes.

The underlying logic was sensible. Admirable, even, and she was acquainted with a large number of trainers - as pointed out, mostly from Kanto and Johto - who could do with a stern lecture and disappointed face from Yarver. The APPLICATION, on the other hand, was far more sinister.

Farsight was stiff and focused on her arms. But not focused on Jagannath, she noted. Not even on the pink Psychic pokemon. Her Natu was fixated on the other pokemon, the one with the silver filigree, and not in a good way. 'This is the threat' her body language silently shared. 'I trust you to flee a human but this pokemon scares me.'

Beneath her own fear, Yarver's words stung on two levels. The first, the subtle condemnation of her declining their (poisoned) offer. He spoke of intolerance for trainers who risked their pokemon, and yet they were upset with her for realising there was an unacceptable risk to her pokemon and retreating. At significant personal risk of falling headfirst down the highest mountain in the region, given that she had reached Taqnateh in the late afternoon.

On the other hand, her professional pride was stung. She'd worked HARD at her previous job, for multiple years, and Adelaide wanted to snarl and demand they point out what condemnable act she'd committed since returning to Sehto because she could count on her fingers the number of times had fought for her, and each and every time was against a wild or out of control pokemon. “It is… confronting to hear that my actions those years ago upset you enough that you-” No, not 'felt the need to', that was too aggressive, you need to stay calm Adelaide, don't succumb to fear or anger it will get you killed, ”-that a false interview was required.”

It stung because she'd worked HARD on those resources, but of course the gym leaders wouldn't care, not if the whole thing was a pretence to get her alone in front of Jagannath. So. Don't look any of them in the eyes, because that's a challenge. But look him in the face, because if you don't seem reasonable you're dead. Don't run because if you run you're dead. There's a chance that no matter what you do you're dead, but it's like facing a storm: the only way out is through.

Jagdish arched a brow as though she'd said something extremely strange. “There's nothing false about it,” he said. “Although if that is indeed your only concern after you've heard what you did, you are a poor fit for the job.”

Yarver glanced across at Jagdish with a brief look of panic. “Let her digest it first, this is the first time she's heard–”

“And her immediate concern is her personal pride,” Jagdish shrugged one shoulder. There was no anger in his voice, only disappointment.

“It's completely normal–” Yarver began to defend her, but Jagdish cut him off again.

“–and completely unacceptable.” Jagdish was rising from his sit. The pokémon next to him began to stir.

But Yarver was evidently willing to raise his voice. “Give. Her. Time.” He gestured to the pokémon at Jagdish's side. “At the very least let her assess her, rather than relying on your own instinct. This is a bit too important for her to work with first impressions.”

That seemed to give Jagdish pause. His scrutiny crept across Adelaide for a minute of silence, tense by merit of a myriad of implications. “But does Miss Mawne even want to be reassessed?” It took a moment to realise that he was asking her.

“I'm sure she does,” Yarver cut through the budding toxic conversation, firmly, his own posture visibly tense, some instincts of his clearly filing this as a threat even to his own well-being. “But we've given her a lot to digest. She's defensive. You're defensive. I implore you, give her some time.” He had shifted by a few inches as though following an urge to use himself as a shield. “Let me talk to her. Alone, maybe for an hour.”

Jagdish kept his gaze firmly anchored on Adelaide. There was something strange about him, a fundamental, unsettling mismatch of how he felt and what he was saying, stronger the closer he was to Adelaide. There should not have been the slightest chance of trusting him given the circumstances, but something about him demanded that it remain an option.

Only an option; only a flimsy thread.

But that was unusual in itself, an obvious psychological blemish amidst her racing thoughts. It didn't matter - it was drowned out as an inconsequential footnote in her quiet, restrained terror - but it was still there, alien and threatening all on its own.

“If she–” Jagdish began.

“I swear,” Yarver said. “With my life, I swear she won't run.”

Jagdish's glance turned into a light eyeroll. “You can't guarantee that. You don't know her well enough.”

“…and if she does run, I'm sure you're capable of finding her, but I swear it nonetheless. I forfeit my life if she tries to flee. It's my responsibility now,” Yarver insisted, firmly, clearly going through some kind of social ritual alien to the culture Adelaide had grown up with.

It was an effective barter, of course. Jagdish trusted Yarver, that much was clear, and Yarver was extending his trust to Adelaide. Adelaide on the other hand, witness to the exchange, now had an unpleasant responsibility for the life of the man who had brought her here. Regardless what she thought of him, he would need to be weighed into a decision to flee.

Assuming Farsight didn't make the choice for her at the most inopportune moment.

“Fine,” Jagdish decreed. He had already proven his emotions only expressed themselves lightly in his tone, though he made no secret of them - so when he narrowed his eyes it was as clear an expression of anger. Fortunately, it passed quickly. “An hour. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done.”

Yarver sagged subtly but visibly. “Thank you,” he said, politely.

If 'the kitchen' was not a euphemism for something, it seemed like an awfully mundane place for him to retire to in light of the gravity of the situation. Perhaps that's what it was, though - a mundane, everyday thing. Murder, too, as a mundane, everyday thing. The judging of lives, ordinary.

Or, charitably, maybe he was just hungry. It might even explain some of the mood.

“Come,” Jagdish gestured to the dark-skinned Psychic pokémon, and began to walk past Adelaide and Yarver, evidently intent on disappearing into the battered building without further discussion. If anything, it proved that he trusted Yarver.

The labyrinthine, smooth hide of the threatening pokémon rippled a little as she rose. Perhaps in disregard for Jagdish's request, or simply as an excursion of her own, she took sure, steady steps directly toward Adelaide - not in themselves threatening, but she was a large pokémon that had triggered Farsight's anxiety before, and her approach was unexpected now.

Yarver reached a hand to grasp for Adelaide's shoulder. “No,” he said, addressing the pokémon. “Later, please.”

The pokémon lingered with her muzzle at a metre's distance as though considering Yarver's request in silence. In a cautious gesture, her neck craned, her muzzle tilting as though driven by a deep, fundamental curiosity, and her nostrils visibly flared as though she were drawing a scent.

Then her head snapped back and she resumed a graceful stand which bled into an equally graceful meander after Jagdish.

Yarver's hand loosened its grip. He was gritting his teeth lightly, grimacing in displeasure, although he was looking at no one in particular. He seemed clearly relieved to have been given time to speak to Adelaide alone, though it was anyone's guess how that might yet play out.

When privacy was finally obtained - Yarver glancing over his shoulder to ensure it, a bit like a child anticipating discovery by an adult - he turned his attention to Adelaide, radiating apology. “I'm sorry that went so poorly,” he said, softly. “Please forgive me for putting you through that without any warning. It's on me; it's not on you and it's not on Jagdish, who I assure you is a fine man, much as you might struggle to believe it in these circumstances. He's rattled and you're rattled and it's just a very poor combination. Do you mind if we talk?” It seemed like a strange question to append to having talked, but presumably he was asking about dialogue, not monologue.

Humans were the most dangerous predators. She remembers getting told that once, although she cannot remember who or why. A safari park? The scrap of sense-memory is vivid, though: pokemon can be dangerous, a particular wild pokemon may want to eat you, but humans are always capable of being more dangerous. A pokemon can be malice in the moment, but humans can plot.

Pokemon, as a rule, don't tend to take hostages. But Jagannath had.

True, it wasn't entirely clear whether the hostage was Yarver, herself, or both, but when lives were at stake that barely mattered.

And now he was gone and they couldn't even take the chance to flee. Fleeing was very tempting. It would have to be off the island, and she had the contacts to do that, but it would have to be FAST and an hour wasn't long enough for her team to get her off the mountain, let alone to a port. Assuming Yarver had a suitable transportation pokemon with him because she wasn't leaving him behind. The idea of trying to flee with a GYM LEADER was ludicrous in its own way. What sort of kidnapping attempt would that get framed as? Because that was how it would be played, she was sure. Assuming Jagdish didn't get his clever little teleporter to drop them straight into the volcano's caldera and solve the problem that way.

Farsight was chittering in her arms. Yarver was saying something too, but Farsight was… it was debatable if Farsight was more important, but Farsight's panic could be more fatal and thus required addressing first.

“No. No, you are not allowed to drag me out of here. You understand? I know you're scared because I'm scared but that will make things worse,” Adelaide told her pokemon, trying to keep notes of hysteria out of her voice. “Do you want your pokeball? I can ask if it's okay to call one of the others to babysit me.”

The natu chittered some more and leapt from her arms to flutter down next to Yarver's foot and apparently scold him instead. Well. She wasn't sure how “her pokemon absonds with the gym leader but not the person told to stay” would go but please let there be a better way. A talky way. She could try that! Not that the crazy man was listening to a word she said.

“How is he a fine man when he threatened to kill me and didn't listen to a word I said?!” Adelaide finally exploded, digging her fingers into her hair and messing up her previously tidy braid. “What does he want from me? He said if I lost he'd kill my pokemon so I left! I did the circuit because every trainer I met told me I had to, and it was an overhyped mess, so I quit my job because I wanted to get away from crazy trainers! And now he's furious that I didn't… what, throw myself off the mountain? WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME?!”

She slumped against the wall and tried to focus on breathing. In for a count of three. Out for a count of four. In for a count of four. Out for a count of five. There is now a concerned bird perched on your head: keep breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Don't open your eyes, just breathe.

“And now he's lurking in the kitchen so I can't even make a cup of tea and scrub the counters until I calm down,” Adelaide added plaintively.

Yarver ignored the chittering of the pokémon and made motions as though to respond immediately, but clearly, visibly, palpably paused to rein in whatever his first instinct had been. Judging by his look of apologetic annoyance, it had been something along the lines of 'bullshit'.

He untangled his defensive urges, inhaled quietly and exhaled in similar silence.

“He did not threaten to kill you,” Yarver said, softly, matter-of-factly, the pace of his words a steady patter, like a metronome, offering an anchor for a frantic mind. “At most, he threatened to detain you, and he insinuated being interested in putting you through a trial, which despite being very cranky about it, he has not even insisted on.

“You may think this is a minor quibble, perhaps, as former is severe in any case, but I feel like this kind of interpretation-game is going to get you into trouble if you're going to do more of it, so I'm going to clarify these things and hope it will help your perspective.

“Indeed, this… seems like it might be a longer-running issue between the both of you. You say he threatened to 'kill your pokémon' if you lost your battle here in Taqnateh. Yet I can, without having been there, promise you to one hundred percent that he did not say that.

“I can promise you that he instead asked you to sign away your life and your belongings to him if he lost. He would never have harmed your pokémon, and he certainly wouldn't have threatened them harm. It's antithetical to what he is doing here.

“It's all right that you were concerned for your pokémon being signed over to him, had you lost, and it's an admirable concern to have, but don't confuse your interpretation of the threat to them for the actual, uttered threat.”

“He is insinuating, heavily, that he is responsible for the many trainers going 'missing' in this region,” Adelaide countered. Perhaps after a trial of some description, if he wished to use that term for whatever kangaroo court he'd concocted.

She wanted to object to the other portion, that no he really had threatened her pokémon, but… she couldn't remember his precise wording. She'd been exhausted, near to the end of her tether, and perfectly accepting that she was going lose just by negative circumstances and mostly going through with things so she could honestly say she'd tried and then wash her hands of the whole matter. What had lodged in her memories was the gym leader's dramatic pose, the emotions he'd invoked, and Farsight's raw panic. Perhaps he hadn't threatened her pokémon, but one of her pokémon had certainly felt threatened and that was enough.

“I may have extrapolated what Jagannath would do from what Sirius did, which was 'joke' he was going to throw my pokémon into lava if I lost and then come alarming close to actually doing it,” Adelaide granted, reluctantly. “That, and my natu is terrified of him.”

“As a colleague of his,” Yarver said, gravely. “Let me just state, for the record, and let there be no mistake about this, that Keith Sirius is insane. …although to his partial credit I must also say that even his threat is a bluff, he just… enjoys psychologically toying with people.” There's mild disgust in Yarver's voice - they are while colleagues perhaps not friends.

At the mention of the Natu, Yarver's gaze had slipped down to the pokémon, his body language adopting a subtle yet clear trace of confusion - something about 'my Natu is terrified of Jagdish' must be strange to him. Perhaps he's looking for signs whether Adelaide's Natu is also terrified of Yarver; in which case he is, obviously, given the critter's incessant chittering, finding none.

The biggest questions now, she suspect, revolved around how reliable any of the information she was receiving was. If Sirius had been bluffing, she was never playing poker against the man. Actually after the events of today she was never playing poker, chess, or even snap against any of the Sehtoan gym leaders unless the only stakes were matchsticks and bragging rights.

Adelaide considered what she had heard of other leagues and extended that to 'no competing against any gym leader, anywhere, for higher stakes than bragging rights'.

“Would you say that Jagannath is bluffing in his threats against you? Would you say that he is bluffing in his threats against me? And, entirely separately for both answers: what happens now?”

She wasn't apologising to him for declining his offer. Even if he'd said 'your life is forfeit but your pokemon will not be physically harmed' she wouldn't have taken him up on it. She might have gotten clear of his gym and biovacked on the mountain for the night instead of fleeing like a Houndoom was on her tail, but she still would have said no. Maybe slightly more politely. She could apologise for her rudeness but that hardly seemed something Jagannath cared about, give his own reactions.

“The– the threat to detain you? He rather means it,” Yarver said, sorting his thoughts in real-time as he spoke. “Which I would honestly hope is what you'd expect, given what we've already told you so far.

“And he hasn't threatened me at all, I made an offer. I rather meant that offer, so, you know… please don't make me cash in on it. I'm very good friends with Jagdish; good enough to know that our friendship isn't going to get in the way of a promise like that.”

But there's a gentleness to his words - he's not nervous. He seems convinced Adelaide at least won't simply try to bail, although a glance back down at the Natu suggest that he's twigged onto that perhaps the pokémon might yet be his undoing.

A pause, almost long enough to insinuate that he might have forgotten about her last question. Then, finally, peeling his gaze away from the Natu: “As for what happens now - we have some time to just… talk. Shall we walk for a while? Talk some history?”

So. Definitely trapped. Arrested, possibly; this part of the island didn't really have a police force and the gym leaders' word tended to BE law, so if two of them agreed she should be detained everyone would believe them. Never mind that she had done nothing wrong. Misunderstandings or wounded pride, perhaps, but 'let me make you a binary offer wait no you aren't allowed to pick that option' was not a criminal act.

“If you TELEPORT me you might need to find a new human,” she cautioned Farsight. Because if this gym leader was crazy enough to kill his coworker, then he was crazy enough to blame her for being 'forced' to kill his friend and to throw her into the volcano or similar. She hoped the natu understood. Or, at the very least, would then redirect any 'rescues' to trying to evacuate Yarver; she wasn't sure how terribly that would go, but notably Jagannath hadn't stated anything against HIM leaving.

Wasn't 'get them talking' part of kidnapping response training? She'd never paid much attention to that; she was working with a shipping magnate, yes, but it wasn't like Team Rocket was active in this part of the world. Apparently the locals disliked the competition. But talking, talking she could listen to and maybe there would be something useful she could use to do… something. “Lead on.”

Cerise, still evidently wholly unperturbed by the tension that the scene had held, had meandered to behind Yarver and was reaching up to paw at the hair that was layered across his shoulders, her arms not quite long enough to reach his scalp for a standard petting.

Yarver was looking down at the Natu again, still looking a little confused, as though the little creature were acting unusual in a way he couldn't make any sense of. But whatever was on his mind, he was keeping that to himself. With how much he had been trying to play diplomat, it was unlikely he couldn't model the Natu's underlying emotions, but something was evidently odd to him.

As he pulled his focus back up to Adelaide's face, he smiled, the expression relieved and friendly, both, and reached back with one hand to ruffle Cerise's fur with the tips of his fingers. “Let's,” he acknowledged, then started to lead her away from the ruins and into the landscape of moss-speckled rocks.

After only a little pause, Yarver mused: “Forgive me my naivité, but perhaps some of your confusion can be alleviated with a simple observation: Would it help you understand the matter better if I told you that this 'trial' Jagdish speaks of– that I went through it, too?” Yarver was, after all, very much not dead, mangled, psychologically damaged or even upset at Jagdish.

She was too practiced to let her steps falter in the face of surprising information - it was habit, really, to fall into step with Yarver and remain there - but yes, it surprised her. “That is somewhat better than it being a personal justification for throwing people off a mountain,” Adelaide replied neutrally. And it was, but… “I am still confused at what is the supposed CRIME.”

She kept her hands clasped behind her as she struggled with her wording, her posture to an outsider as the perfect attentive aide. “The act of circuiting. But it can't be the act of travelling with pokemon, because… well, it could, nothing he's said counters that, but he emphasised the risks to pokemon. Unethical battle practices? It can't be the act of battle itself, the Sehtoan gym leaders help teach that. Except Mr Kiran has a reputation for brutality that exceeds even Lt Surge, and Vermilion's nurses warn people about Surge.”

“Maltreatment of pokémon for personal gain,” Yarver summarised. “The circuiting is just a vivid expression of that. The gym leaders, as I said earlier, teach you and your pokémon how to defend yourself in case you meet those that would use pokémon offensively, as they might a gun, or a tool, or some other item one needn't care for the well-being of.

“As for Kiran, he is a necessary relic, not an exemplary example of moral fibre. We tolerate him and he tolerates us, and in turn for this tolerance he makes for a fine example what the stakes are when one choose to send one's pokémon into battle, to all those painfully ignorant of it.”

Yarver's voice had dropped at the word fine, showing what he thought of it in general, though it evidently was an effective demonstration enough that he accepted its existence. And it was, after all, not Terry Kiran who initiated the battles.

It still seemed so… hypocritical. Self-justifying. Of course, saying that was counter-productive to escaping. She wasn't sure what WOULD help, though. Laying down to die was absolutely not an option. This was the point that many of the dockhands would suggest 'pragmatic' measures like 'if the man is a murderer forget fair and smack Jagannath over the head with a solid object'.

This was, Adelaide knew, one of the most stupid things she could do. Against an ordinary trainer? Yes it was an option of last resort but it may work. But this man was a gym leader. A supreme pokemon trainer. A trainer with a grudge, who it was strongly implied had beaten the best of Sehto repeatedly in battle.

And THAT meant his team were likely unwaveringly loyal monsters liable to go on an uncontrolled rampage if she harmed him, with Taqnateh at its epicenter. If she was sufficiently heroic and self-sacrificing then her ALSO being in Taqnateh may be an acceptable cost, given how isolated this place was from anything important. But she wasn't. And if she ran away that pinkmon might just transport the rampage to wherever Farsight managed to drop her which was a fate undeserved by… Vale if was being terribly optimistic but probably some poor hiker's head.

The question now was still… what now? Yarver seemed to be angling, at least a little, that Jagannath's temper was because she had declined his 'deal' and thus evaded his trial, which suggested…

“This seems like many additional reasons why I should never battle Jagannath.”

Yarver nodded almost absent-mindedly. “Rather,” he concurred. “And Jagdish doesn't want you to battle him if it can be helped - why should he risk your pokémon's health?” It was an interesting, subtle choice of words - her pokémon were at risk, not those Jagdish had. …what did Jagdish battle with?

“In an ideal world, he would want only your consent for a trial. The battle is just traditionally how he obtains it.” He seemed to consider something in private for a moment - perhaps whether they had caused enough of a cultural shift by now that they could play those cards openly now without losing their effectiveness.

They had, after all, already significantly affected the culture of Sehto, both by authority - the gym leaders taught the philosophy to anyone who listened - and by dragging everyone who resisted the first method through the coals.

Well. That suggested what priorities Jagannath - Jagdish? - had, very clearly. It appeared he should find some way of dismantling the entire league and start running a pokemon daycare instead. True, the location was against him, but perhaps that pinkmon might enjoy being a daily shuttle service from Vale. The sheer novelty factor would gain him plenty of customers.

Ah, but then he'd have to stop threatening people under dubious pretenses, even if the fact there WAS a league was, she felt, a major enticement for people do COMPLETE the league.

“I don't…” No. Be careful. Be CLEAR. Miscommunications set the gym leader off. “Handing over my pokemon to a stranger, given the data that has been presented to me so far, feels to me like an act of gross negligence against my pokemon. I do not give my consent to that, or to a trial relating to that.” And that, she suspected, would cause some degree of upset, so best apply some sugar after the vinegar to increase their mutual survival chances. “I'll listen to further arguments,” Adelaide offered, and left hanging the implication that perhaps she'd change her mind. Perhaps was a wonderful weasel word.

Yarver's step nearly faltered. He seemed confused for a moment, perhaps trying to backtrack on the conversation to figure out where she had gotten a particular notion. Turning up nothing, he shook his head slightly. “The trial is for you, Adelaide, not for the pokémon you carry with you,” he said, evidently suddenly convinced that she might have gotten it confused.

“That said, your consent… how do you suppose that would change anything, if that were what is is about? Which it isn't, but– I think this is important, you really need to realise, you… don't actually own them. You may feel responsible, but surely you realise it wouldn't be your choice? It would be theirs.”

It was Adelaide's turn to be confused. Yes, there were very long running debates about how much pokemon comprehended about the world and the relevant intelligence levels of various species - very few people would argue a Magikarp had the same mental capacity as an Alakazam, and the people who did weren't proposing highly intelligent fish - but that was very clearly a debate she shouldn't get into here.

Especially since her views were likely similar to Yarver's, from what she had seen, and she didn't want to play advocate for the unpleasant sorts who claimed pokemon were as advanced as a root vegetable and all signs of pain were mere reflexes.

“I can't imagine there are many people who'd challenge a gym without bonded pokemon, and bonded pokemon generally don't want to leave their humans unless they're forced, so if they're being taken it can't be their choice,” Adelaide countered. Of course it would require her consent, she had their pokeballs and that was how you forced a pokemon to go somewhere it didn't want to. Or mugging her, which someone willing to commit murder would also be willing to do.

A secondary interpretation came to her, and she queried, “Or… are you meaning the pokemon's consent to also go on trial? Because only two of my team would grasp the meaning of 'trial', I suspect, and Zoan is likely to ignore everything in favour of trying to be a hat.”

Yarver seemed to smile for a moment, like a soft, private amusement tinged with a certain sadness. Personal experience, perhaps? Or just a line of reasoning he'd been confronted with all too often? Softly, he said: “Unfortunately, 'bonding' is… rarely actual bonding.”

It was clear from both his body language and his voice that she had touched on something that roiled within him - though he was clearly not holding it against her. “A lot of pokémon don't realise they have other choices than to fight for their masters; any perceived bonding is more like… an act of desperation, the desire to fit in, to–”

He stopped himself. “Please accept my apologies, I don't mean to imply this is true for the ones you've grown up with. But it's very common. Painfully common. They are all allowed to stay with the human that brought them here. Most decline; not all, just most. Jagdish keeps the… most disgruntled of them from harming their trainers - because some do, vengeance is not a uniquely human trait.”

What? “But how would anyone know that for su-”

Psychic gym. This was the PSYCHIC GYM. They'd mentioned the Sehto Legendaries being involved, the… they… they were said to be raptorian, weren't they? Adelaide scrambled to compare the stylised artwork she'd seen in some museum with that mysterious possibly-a-Psychic pokemon. It… maybe fit. Potentially fit. And if there was anyone able to psychoanalyse a bonded pokemon, presumably it would be the plausibly Psychic-type God of Souls, who might have been preening the absolutely terrifying Taqnateh gym leader.

That was a stab in the heart. But how could a mere human tell? How could she tell?

Instead of being frozen she found her back pressed to the rock, and couldn't even remember moving. Belatedly realised her breathing had shifted almost to hyperventilation, barely realised that Farsight had fallen silent. “But if most… then, how can anyone tell?” Adelaide repeated, softly. “Humans, I mean. Not-” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction they'd come from, “potentially the physical embodiment of souls and air.”

She didn't notice her Natu silently vanish.

Not too far away, inside the cathedral, near but not in the kitchen, a Natu silently appeared. It was easy to assume there had been no intermediate steps - that Farsight had known precisely where to go - but this was unfamiliar territory, and there had been a few stops in places, some of which had been rather unpleasantly close to stone walls.

Jagdish, indeed a few steps away from slipping into the kitchen, paused. His face knitted together slightly - not in disapproval, but perhaps in mild confusion. For as long a silence as the Natu let him get away with, he looked toward it, rather without turning to face it properly. What a human might have considered rude was only polite, really; this way, it took an additional second to potentially attack the Natu if he were so inclined, and by not pre-empting that second, he could make it clear that he had no intention of attacking, even if he was looking straight at it. He blinked his eyes slowly in another, similar gesture, then said: “Hello.”

Back outside, Yarver had brought one hand up to scratch at his right brow.

“That's a complex question,” he said. “It's hard to have proper empathy for something that doesn't share your neurological quirks. It's possible if you don't–” He paused. “This sounds patronising, I'm sorry, I don't mean it that way: It's possible if you don't make assumptions.

“But no one is asking people to understand that bonding often doesn't work the way we think. That realisation makes it easier not to do battle unless you're coerced, but at the end of the day, it's the battles and the associated… 'training'… that we condemn.” 'We', not 'Jagdish'. From the tone of his voice, at least, he wasn't doing a lot of condemning. An intellectual exercise, perhaps. Just one with high stakes.

At least Yarver had gone back to having a calm air. It wasn't quite outright soothing in the current situation, but it certainly prevented it from spiralling into a worse state.

“But let me circle back, before we lose ourselves in the tangle of this,” Yarver suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Bluntly said, Jagdish is used to judging people. It's part of what the Legendaries expect him to do. It doesn't typically happen that he sees someone and then doesn't get to judge them.

“Yet that's what's happened here. You came to Taqnateh before, but you declined his challenge. It's good that you did and Jagdish wouldn't think otherwise, but it's still deeply strange to him, and it's hard for him to shake the scepticism, so he pokes and probes, trying to understand the anomaly.”

“What sort of pokemon are you?” the Natu chittered at him. “She said you're human, everyone said you're human, but you don't feel right. You feel safe. But there's no such thing as a safe stranger human! And you're spiky with my Adelaide, which isn't safe, so safe-feeling means someone is doing something.”

The little pokemon flicked her wings slightly, the personification of an anxious ball of feathers. “You felt the same before, and she listened when I said to runrunrun. Is that why you're upset with us now? Did I ruin things?” Farsight asked in a terrified fit of bravado.

At the Natu's nervous chattering sounds, a tired little smile appeared on Jagdish's face, accompanied by a somewhat larger sigh. “I'd like to know,” he said, softly. “I haven't found the mirror yet that will show me what I am.” He was still paused near the doorway in his non-combative posture. His lips pulsed against each other for a moment, revealing that he was still thinking about something Farsight had said - which was good, because the main question remained unanswered. Then, a little more severely, but rather more in a tone of sceptical curiosity than accusation: “She left because of you?”

The Natu paused before responding, as if reviewing her memories. “I begged her to leave and said this place was unsafe and you were unsafe and bad things would happen, and then we left and nearly fell down the mountain in a dark but that still felt better. But it might not just be because of me,” Farsight answered honestly. “But she's listened to my warnings before! Like the time with the cove and big slabs of rock falling and lots of people got wet but nobody got hurt.”

Jagdish made a contemplative noise, then tipped forward and sauntered into the kitchen as he spoke: “To answer your question, yes, I suppose that's why I'm upset with your human friend now. A little less now that you've confided that in me.” He sounded much calmer than before, meandering to his fridge and opening it. Some carrots surfaced, half an aubergine, a vat of something like curd… it looked like he was going to make himself some food. “Are you hungry?” he asked, conversationally.

Less upset was good. She carefully hopped after the less scary (but still scary, just less) man-mon. This would probably be a good time to return to her human, but there was still Danger. The frustrating sort where she couldn't see what it was, just that it was lurking just out of reach. Either he was a pokemon or it was something one of the pair of strange pokemon were doing.

“I thought we were sitting down for a picnic but then the Pink One arrived and TELEPORTed us here,” Farsight half-answered, suspiciously. “If I say yes, will they steal the food or me again?”

The question prompted a fond chuckle from Jagdish. He was sliding a pan onto a gas stove and turning it on. Some olive oil went in. “Mew is a little mischief-maker, but teleporting people and things is usually not her flavour of mischief - and since I haven't requested any teleportion, you should be safe.” A pause as he rinsed the pre-peeled carrots for good measure, then beginning to chop them up. “What do you eat?”

“Seeds and spike-fruit and soft greens and all the shoots I can sneak out of Taio's feed,” Farsight admitted. The Stantler couldn't mind that much or he would hide his food. But those weren't really humanfoods. Sprouts were but most humans looked oddly at Adelaide snacking on them. Maybe they were hard to eat without a beak?

Jagdish nodded along with the comment. “You might like what I'm cooking up for myself here, it's mostly in the soft greens camp and I think some seeds would only improve it. If it's not to your liking, I'll make you something else. Sound good?” He popped open a cylinder, drizzling sunflower seeds into the pan, adding a pleasant soft crackling to the dish.

New foods were probably not dangerous. Humans were easier to poison than pokemon, so if it was safe for him it was likely safe to eat. Except even he wasn't sure if he was human.

But food seemed to make him calmer? So food was good, calmer wasn't angry at her or her Adelaide, and if it was badfood then her Adelaide had Antidotes and they'd know for sure that the man-mon was evil. Or bad at being in the kitchen, but if he lived here on his own he couldn't be THAT bad unless he could eat souls or sunlight or dreams- wait, no, dreams still required someone else to do the dreaming.

Decision made, Farsight cheeped agreement and, with a few hops and flutters, relocated herself to a perch on a cupboard handle. A safer view was worth being slightly sideways.

Jagdish weighed a glass canister with a mix of herbs in one hand, his eyes trained on it, while his other pushed food around in the pan so it wouldn't stick. The container wasn't labelled, it seemed to be a generic one he'd filled with herbs of his own design. He turned the canister, making its insides shift. Then he shook his head, set it down, and picked up another with simpler contents, gave it a muster, then paused with the stirring to unscrew the top and drizzle a small helping of its contents into the pan. He set it aside again, explaining: “A lot of herbs aren't good for pokémon. While I don't keep too many of those around, given my company up here, usually I'm not sharing my food this spontaneously. I added a safe variant, without any essential oils.”

The food was getting the first hints of crisp ridges by now and one hand went down to turn the pan's heat down and off. The pan itself wandered to another spot on the stove. Two bowls appeared out of cupboards, a spoon coming to decorate one of them. Then Jagdish hoisted the pan up and poured its contents first into the dish without the spoon, then the rest, along with the remnants of olive oil sloshing at the bottom, into the one with.

A knife and fork surfaced from one of the drawers, delved into the dish with less oil, and Jagdish busied himself for half a minute in cutting the large pieces of vegetable into smaller ones that, if perhaps not fully beak-sized, would be less of a hassle for a bird to eat.

“See if you like this,” he said, moving the dish from the countertop on which he'd assembled it to another closer to Farsight. Then he propped his hip against the one he was at, picked up his share of the food and began to eat it with the spoon. By expression, he was attentive, maybe a little concerned-by-default but not expecting issues, not fishing for praise.

He was eating the food, so it definitely wouldn't poison /him/. Were humans easier to poison than pokemon? Farsight wasn't sure. She thought they got poisoned /less/ but that was because they were better at dodging, and her Adelaide had said humans cooked their food to avoid poisoning - and she'd seen some very sick looking humans on the ship - but that wasn't helping her decide what category to put him in.

And she couldn't trust her instincts to prove the food was safe or unsafe because HE felt just as safe as her Adelaide, when he wasn't, which meant something was wrong. Sharing food was a way to prove you were safe so this was a way he was trying to soothe her and might be a trick, but the trick only worked if the food wasn't poisoned so that meant it was okay to eat. And it probably worked the other way too, humans were happy when a pokemon ate with them (they made delighted noises and took lots of photographs) and he did seem closer to human than pokemon? So if she ate with him he'd calm down, and then she could tell Adelaide he was still dangerous but eating with him would probably not hurt, and then maybe things would get better and they could run away in daylight instead this time.

Also she was hungry. So she ate.

Jagdish watched Farsight nibble the food, scooping more of his own meal into his mouth. Personally, he preferred it without the seeds - the problem was less the flavour and more that the texture didn't quite fit the rest. Unless he spontaneously had to whip up something for another bird, he wouldn't do it again.

After some more mouthfuls, he said: “Is it edible?”

It was maybe a queer question to ask a bird. There wasn't all that much of a sense of taste to sample the food with. What Farsight could taste was a mild, pleasant sweetness and umami, promising a good deal of energy. The bowl was not all that good for pecking, making little chiming sounds each time Farsight's beak tapped at it. The herbs were imperceptible - a good sign.

All in all, it was quite pleasant, registering due to its soft and oily nature as some strange but good mixture of crop milk and raw foodstuffs, something that meshed more with Farsight's last memories before being captured than with the seeds and grains that she was usually fed.

Farsight turned her head sideways as she considered the question. “Yes, it's edible,” she confirmed. “It's different. Not badwrong different, just… different.” A crinkled leaf squished under her beak. Humans seemed to like soft foods. If he proved actually-safe in future, maybe she could ask if that's why they cooked everything? As well as stopping it from poisoning them.

The bowl remained between her and the gym leader, more an automatic nervous habit than a belief it could work as a protective barrier. “What happens now?” she asked cautiously, hoping that the food-sharing was working. Farsight did not want to have to find hiding places for two humans on top of a mountain. Humans were a lot bigger than she was and couldn't TELEPORT and many pokemon were much better at seeking than humans were at staying still.

Jagdish paused his eating to shoot a glance at his bare left wrist by way of a gesture, shrugging lightly. “We wait for Yarver and Adelaide to come back, mostly,” he said. He sounded quite neutral about it, not like someone who had just been reminded of a subject of great anger. It meshed with his earlier air - the mundanity of it all, the way all of this gravity was just an everyday thing for him.

“If she consents to a trial, will you let that happen?” he asked. It was a conversational question by tone, but it was easy to imagine that there might be consequences if the answer was 'no'. From all Farsight had observed of him so far, spiking paranoia aside, it would probably just involve a TELEPORT-suppressing enclosure for the duration of the trial at worst, though, and likely something milder still.

“What sort of trial?” Farsight asked. “The very sunny green islands had trials, like not falling off a Lapras or chasing pokemon with a camera. But that's not dangerous enough. Because things feel dangerous.”

Jagdish paused, by body language as if to consider the consistency of what he'd just put into his mouth. But after long seconds, he swallowed and said: “It's not that kind of trial. It's a… conversation with consequences. Adelaide and I would have a long conversation with some of the Sehto Legendaries, about the things she has done with her pokémon, and for what cause, with which motivations.”

He let his gaze drop into his bowl as though to scry something, fishing for an explanation of 'consequences' that felt accessible. Then he nodded mildly and said: “Most people who come up here for a trial have been very mean to their pokémon. Sometimes even the pokémon don't realise it, because they've never seen any pokémon be handled differently.

“The unfortunate truth is that some people don't care at all whether their pokémon get hurt or die, and what they want is the little piece of plastic they can pin to their chest that tells them their pokémon let them win a gym's challenge.” He sounded quite calm about it, like a professor explaining a tough subject in physics to a student.

“And we punish those people in proportion to how much they were mean. The worst of them, we kill. The best of them usually get a couple of scratches. Most gym leaders you've seen are people of the second type, in fact. But to ascertain what they've done and what they deserve, there is a trial, and we ask opinions of their pokémon, and sift through the information we have of what they did during the gym challenges.”

“All of that is to say: The trial is a threat to Adelaide and I have no interest in misleading you about that. We will probably hurt her, but I suspect we won't hurt her much.” There was a mild annoyance in his voice, a pale shadow of his earlier anger, this time stemming from that he was wary of making promises about outcomes. But the Natu seemed well-adjusted and none of the data he had on Adelaide made her out to be one of the worse candidates. 'A couple of scratches', while still a bit of a euphemistic simplification, felt like the likely outcome.

Farsight's first reaction was outrage. Hurting HER Adelaide was not acceptable! Feathers puffed out in an instinctive attempt to look larger (somewhat successful) and more intimidating (…significantly less successful) she opened her beak to protest, and nearly immediately clicked it shut again.

She was a very average Natu, and he was a scary man-mon with a VERY powerful Pink One who'd just confessed to having lots of conversations with Legendaries. He'd said he wanted a conversation with Adelaide's other pokemon too, but when angry people had yelled at her human Adelaide had told them off and said that conversations were not shouting and made them go away. And shouting wouldn't work, because she (somehow) knew that he could beat her in a fight even without his own pokemon coming to help.

“Unhappy puffball,” Farsight muttered to herself, attacking a particularly crooked feather with her beak. That was what her Adelaide would say to her, gently, then ask what was wrong. She was a GOOD human! Not like the ones on the ship that kept trying to pick fights with everyone!

She looked back up. “Adelaide is scared, and she's angry, and she's afraid you're going to hurt US, like the volcano-gym-man threatened.” He was mean, so he can't have been one of the gym leaders put on trial. “Even if she's scared because I'm scared, she won't let you touch our pokeballs while she's afraid of that.” Because she didn't want Adelaide hurt at ALL, but wasn't hurt better than killed? Yes, but not good enough. She should have seen further and warned her Adelaide sooner. But maybe if her talked to the others and found their trainer wasn't mean then he'd be less angry and it would be easier to run away? Because… he wouldn't let her say no, would he?

Jagdish nodded amiably, taking another bite of his food - the last. He set the bowl aside, taking a deep breath that led into an equally deep exhale. “I imagine Yarver is explaining to her that that's not a threat. No one here is interested in harming pokémon in anything but, at most, acute self-defence and I haven't seen that happen in the past three decades.”

He did not look like he could be much older than three decades.

“You would have better ways of hiding from a very angry Tauros than a Cargodon and a forklift,” Farsight agreed.

plot/mawne/2019-09-23.txt · Last modified: 2023/11/04 23:46 by pinkgothic