As expected, Adelaide was up before Jagdish. Since the only thing physically keeping her in Taqnateh was the environment around it and her word, she could move freely, and by now the floor plan of the bizarre building was beginning to make a strange kind of sense to her, making her feel less lost. It continued to be strange that half of the building was a ruin, but it was the aesthetic the gym was going for - inasmuch as it could even honestly be called a gym, given its remote nature meant it was practically never used for sparring.
Dawn was still only just staining the horizon when Adelaide could be seen stepping out into the crumbling courtyard that she'd first met Jagdish in to grab some fresh air.
There was a second sun in the landscape, sitting comfortably next to the other, but below the horizon to the side, paler, its luminescence halfway between the rising disc and a full moon. The morning breeze kempt though its feathers. It was some kind of pokémon, large as the psychic one she had already interacted with, of the same general shape, looking straight at her.
A second Legendary. That was… certainly not who Adelaide had expected to encounter this morning, and she felt slightly exasperated at the burst of astonishment. No part of her brain should be surprised there were two of them. There were six of them, she'd been told, and this could only be Solalon, the Spirit of Light in all its forms.
…presumably he would not threaten to lick her, but she didn't know if he could also pull a disappearing act.
It rarely harmed to be polite. “Good morning,” Adelaide offered softly, hesitating in the doorway and wondering if she should wait for a response or apologise for disturbing him and retreat.
A growl emanated from somewhere to the left of the second sun, and something shifted, looking in the first instant like an arrangement of tuning forks, before the dark crimson shade that held the tines together became apparent. …two Legendaries, then, neither of which seemed the type to respond to Adelaide's polite comment with anything other than a firm stare.
She flinched slightly at the sound and its source. That seemed like a non-verbal expression that she should go away. Adelaide nodded to the pair and backstepped, softly closing the door behind her before she could do anything innate like nervously offer to make cups of tea for Legendaries.
There was plenty of outside elsewhere, but perhaps she should retreat to her room with a book. Would Jagdish look for her there? Perhaps the kitchen.
A soft, excited “Mew!” popped into existence beside her, along with a soft pink glow, with the little psychic pokémon that had so effortlessly teleported her and Yarver up here in the first place beginning a little mid-air twirl and dance around her as she left the closed door behind. At least it wasn't literally curling around her neck, keeping some measure of distance, but it would have no doubt been nicer if the distance were larger.
Once again she jumped. Adelaide would like to say she had a better understanding of how to deal with Mew, but from what she had seen that was something only Jagdish could claim. Most of the time. The only remedies seemed to be indulge Mew, ignore Mew, or possibly attempt to hide under the bed until something more engaging occurred.
“Good morning, Mew. Were you looking for me in particular?” Indulging Mew seemed safest right now, rather than risking it bothering the Legendaries. For the sake of everyone involved, really; Jagdish would be upset if Mew got eaten by a cranky raptorian, Mew would not enjoy being eaten, and Adelaide wanted the beings judging her to be in the most pleasant mood possible.
“Mew!” Mew declared with great enthusiasm, twirling about in the air before Adelaide as if in triumph for getting attention. It was a cute pokémon if you hadn't witnessed it teleporting you halfway across the island without any apparent effort. It looked fragile and playful and friendly, and Adelaide was acutely aware that it could turn her to pulp if it was ever so inclined.
“Congratulations on finding me, then,” Adelaide said, a smile creeping up her face. Now for the game of twenty questions. “Did you want to t- to lead me to Jagdish?” Not 'take me to Jagdish'; that was a short route to an abrupt teleportation, and knowing Mew's sense of humour could result in being dumped on the man's lap while he was still asleep in bed.
In response, Mew began to float upside down in front of her, head canted slightly as if in curiosity. It at least suggested that the thought hadn't even crossed its mind.
Well, that was a no. Probably. Mew was, so far, the strangest pokemon she had ever met. And unlikely to play messenger for anyone else, so probably here out of simple boredom. “Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?” Adelaide asked, slowly winding her way through the building. Maybe she could find a nice eggcup to serve it in.
Something bubbled from Mew that might have been laughter as it corkscrewed about. It was hard to tell whether it was delight at the idea of getting tea or laughter at her cuteness for offering it to a Legendary that did not need anything of the sort.
But Mew had apparently decided that the time of getting to know each other was over, and in its next motion darted to settle around the back of her neck like a warm scarf, displacing some of Adelaide's hair in the process.
Once again Adelaide froze, then took a steadying breath. It had to be nerves about the trial that had her being so jumpy this morning. Pokemon ignoring personal space while wanting attention? That described a third of her team. If one ignored the respective power levels (which was challenging) this was familiar territory.
“Comfortable?” Current plan: her own cup of tea, the book she had been loaned, sit and quietly read. Similar to her plan of two minutes ago, except now it may include providing a neck to scarf around and possibly pettings.
“Mew,” Mew purred against her cheek, evidently content in some way that made perfect sense to its preferences. The tail flicked to and fro at the edge of Adelaide's vision.
It was easy enough to find the kitchen - beside the bathroom closest to her lodgings, that was the one place she'd gone to often enough to firmly place it on the mental map. There wasn't anyone in it yet, and so no one who might interfere in tea-making, but about halfway through the procedure, she could hear soft, still-tired footsteps that she could identify as Jagdish's.
Dakarai, she'd already found out by now, made almost no sound at all as he walked, as though he were trained to be some prowling panther - he didn't look predatory, but Jagdish hadn't really gotten into the details of what he did, other than implying it involved circuiters.
“Good morning,” Jagdish said from the dining room, not yet in sight - the kitchen sounds obviously gave Adelaide away. There was a bit of a yawn in his voice.
It was no trouble to lay out an additional cup and begin preparing a drink for him too. “Good morning,” Adelaide responded, finally back on (mostly) comfortable territory. And then stepping outside it once more. “I presume you are aware they've arrived, but just in case: there are another pair of Council members in the courtyard.”
“Mmhmm,” reverberated as acknowledgement through the dining room. For a moment he was visible in the doorway to the kitchen, hanging in the frame and looking at her - he was used to being the one milling around in the kitchen, his whole posture forming an aborted habit - and then he withdrew to sit at the table and let her do her thing.
Maybe it wasn't wise to let someone you were going to drag through a trial make you your drink in the morning, but he evidently wasn't worried about that, either.
It was only a cup of tea placed on the table before him, not a full breakfast, but going that extra step without discussion felt… well, rude. Let the man have a chance to fully wake at least.
Adelaide sat herself, gently nudging a pink tail away from her drink. While the colour and dimensions of the tail were new, the act was extremely familiar.
“Slept okay?” he asked, poking a spoon into his tea and stirring it silently, only to transition to picking up some of it and pouring it back in, a gradual cooling ritual. His eyes darted between Adelaide and her new pokémon scarf.
With some pause and consideration, Mew finally uncurled with a soft “Mew!” that sounded a little bit like a protest, then tiny forepaws mussed into Adelaide's hair like a caricature of putting it back into order, and the creature half-flowed, half-leapt off her shoulder and onto the table to begin a little faux-wrestle with Jagdish's spoon.
Jagdish didn't even change the pace of what he was doing.
“I suspect you could have stirred his tea from here,” Adelaide commented dryly, before answering the original question. “I didn't sleep especially well, but I suppose that's to be expected.”
He stifled a night-owl yawn as though his body wanted to sympathise. “It's common,” he mentioned, continuing his tea-cooling ritual, moving Mew's tiny stubborn body with his motions. “So, from talking to your pokémon,” he began, his overall tone hovering around 'first business meeting in the morning', “You're mostly going to have to deal with the standard accusation of circuiting, possibly with some probing questions about your Electabuzz, but I expect they'll try to hang you by your Chatbuoyancy, who is clearly intellectually disabled even by pokémon standards.” It was all delivered neutrally, tarnished only by some visible tiredness. “Which wouldn't be a problem, by itself, if it had been left out of combat entirely.”
“Zoan is… what?” The accusation clearly blind-sided her. Yes, they apparently had some quirks compared to some Chatbuoyancy, but intellectually disabled?
Jagdish simply nodded mutely for a moment, then relinquished his spoon to Mew, who made an excited little 'Mew!' sound, albeit less explosive than if it were trying to get anyone's attention. A second later, the spoon was popped into Mew's mouth and its cheeks puffed out a little, misplaced in the current scene with its goofiness.
“Yes,” he said. “I figured you weren't consciously aware of that, from all the other context I've gathered. But as it were, it thinks each time you brought it into battle, it was because the other person was attacking you. I've tried - it doesn't understand, fundamentally, that it could be anything else. I did my due diligence here and cross-checked the gym records, so I know it's not also incidentally true.”
Adelaide let her elbows fall to the tabletop and slowly kneaded her forehead. One of her pokemon… completely misunderstood battling. Well, she supposed that made two of them? It boggled her, because Zoan's behaviour in battle was… well, somewhat similar to Zoan's behaviour out of battle. “So, what does this mean?”
“It means one of two things: Either you'll need to absorb the accusation that you took the Chatbuoyancy to battle despite knowing it was unfit to understand the dynamics of any of it, out of ease to manipulate a creature like that - or you'll need to absorb the accusation that you're so out of touch with your pokémon that you didn't realise it was that way. There's no real good third option here,” Jagdish mused, making a bit of a face.
“I would say it depends a bit how you want to play your overall cards, narratively. I think the ignorance route is the one that fits the facts the most - felt pressured into proving yourself by the environment you were in, had cultural misconceptions that pokémon like or need battling as a sort of enrichment, selective blinders to data that didn't fit that preconception.
“It's a common defensive strategy and the Council doesn't like it, so they will pick holes into it as much as they're able, including asking some awful questions about whether you can be trusted to be better informed in future, and what evidence there is of that.
“But we could also go the route of everything being a conscious, informed choice - that elevates your kindness to most of your pokémon, makes the choice to end the circuit early a most obviously commendable act, and reduces friction with the Legendaries in the trial, at cost of making you clearly culpable.” He took a sip of his tea, then steepled his fingers.
Concerned. He sounded concerned. For someone who had basically strong-armed her into doing a trial in the first place to atone for circuiting, it seemed bizarre that he wasn't just trying to throw her into it blindly and let the Legendaries shred her rationalisations like a swarm of pirhanas.
“Parts of the second sounds… alarmingly close to lying. Which seems a poor idea when powerful mind readers are involved,” Adelaide noted. She understood massaging the truth and presenting from a particular perspective, but she hadn't deliberately manipulated Zoan. Had she? That internal conflict likely writ itself large across her body language.
“That depends,” Jagdish mused. Mew had begun to clamber up his arm and now rested on one shoulder, perched like a cat, tail curled, to look at Adelaide with large, curious eyes. “I certainly don't advise lying, but you consciously made the choice to go on the circuit - you didn't sleep walk through it. It's more of a question of focus - you knew it wasn't necessary to circuit, you knew your pokémon could get seriously hurt by it, and you knew your Chatbuoyancy misunderstands a lot of things. It's a question which persona you want to play.” A pause. “I do assume, in your line of work you became quite familiar with playing different personas.”
Yes, she was. At times more than she liked to admit. Less lying and more framing. “Zoan was one of the ones I thought *enjoyed* battling,” she said plaintively to her palms. Paused, and then reluctantly acknowledged, “And that only makes things worse.” She'd been second-guessing all her past interactions with pokemon for the last few days, and now Adelaide needed to add a third and fourth guess too.
“Why did you think Zoan liked battling?” Jagdish asked. By tone, it was a perfectly neutral question - he wasn't assuming it was some grand faux pas to get the impression, he wanted to understand, presumably so he could figure out how to affected the defence narrative.
“Eagerness to fling self into action, and increased liveliness and 'pep' afterwards,” Adelaide answered. “I've tried to find other forms of stimulus since, like toys. I've had most luck with those wriggling pillows, the ones that irregularly move for a minute every so often.” And if Zoan was actively distressed by it instead, that pillow would be getting removed. Or given to Taio, who seemed to find it an enjoyable belly massage.
“Zoan clearly likes you,” Jagdish commented. He had woven his fingers together and was now resting his chin on them as he explained the behaviour: “And, in a sense, enjoys protecting you. For a creature that usually isn't applying a lot of control to its environment - passive in nature as Chatbuoyancies are - being able to control an aggressor is certainly a question of pride. So you have that effect and a lot of adrenaline buzz leading into Zoan's liveliness after the fact. It just successfully rescued you. It can be happy about that, without enjoying the situation that caused it.”
One thing was clear. “At some point, I think I need to ask what else I've misunderstood.” Adelaide considered a moment. “Assuming there is a later.” Because all the promises of things being 'not that bad' were suddenly looking alarmingly mistaken.
“There will be,” Jagdish said. The trial hadn't happened yet, but it stood to reason he'd had enough experience with them to tell whether something was death or eternal banishment, and this clearly wasn't it. “But you should pick a persona and stick to it. I can support you with either of them, but it has to be consistent or you'll do your case a lot of harm.”
Well, it wasn't quite comforting, but his confidence was a needed beacon of hope. “Which do you recommend? Accepting culpability and attempting to demonstrate change, I presume?”
Jagdish chuckled mildly. “I recommend the one you feel most confident upholding under pressure,” he said. Not making the decisions for her, apparently. He took a few sips of his tea and twirled Mew's tail around two of his narrow fingers in an absent-minded, practised gesture.
Very helpful. Well, no, likely that was helpful advice, even if it was sidestepping the question.
Adelaide stared into her teacup. It was notable that Jagdish seemed confident in her survival without pushing for an angle. So surely the worse case scenario was 'only' an incredible amount of pain! And here she was, the complete fool, sitting and drinking tea and being ridiculously compliant instead of… well, she wasn't sure what the 'correct' option was. Possibly it involved either stealth or hitting something with a frying pan.
The fact she hadn't seriously contemplated it was concerning in its own way. Planning was what she did! “I quit the circuit and left my job, but I kept my team and was willing to go to a job interview with Yarver,” Adelaide said, working on untangling her thoughts. “That's… perhaps not fully aligned with pure ignorance. Or at least not a sudden blinding revelation, a complete change of everything, and shunning anything even remotely associated with battling forever more and pleading ignorance.
“I was perfectly willing to take a job with one of Yarver's associates, am still inclined to stay and work with you in future, and am sitting here instead of in a cell because a trial seemed… seemed the right path forward. That does seem like a tacit admission of guilt, no matter what narrative is chosen.” Adelaide shuddered. There was a difference between coming to a conclusion and liking that conclusion. “That seems more a request for clemency than mercy.”
“I'm not the one who decides your fate,” Jagdish commented. “I can only try to persuade the Council, which happens naturally. It's my role in the trial to defend you - hence why I'm asking about your persona. I can do better if I know what to lean toward. I have a good deal of experience with the audience, after all.” Although presumably, as did the audience with Jagdish. He watched her attentively past the motions of finishing his tea.
She thought she had been clear, but perhaps Jadgish was intent on making her explicitly say it. “I'll go with the persona of making a conscious choice. I'm-” she grimaced some more, ”- possibly having too many errors rubbed in my face this week to successfully plead innocence.”
And if she had to deal with the Council in future, provoking them now was unwise. She could pile up more justifications for her choice if she put an effort in, and thereby convince herself not to gibber in terror, right?
✘ IN PROGRESS