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The next time Salt's perception coalesces into existence around and within him, timeless stasis dissipating just shy of an impression of never having happened in the first place, instinct of course is that he's been called out for another battle. The most obvious indicator of the change of scene is that he's no longer hurting - he remembers passing out a while ago, though the details a fuzzy in his memory beyond the sting of cold. The architecture looks familiar, though… and if there weren't a table in the middle of the room, it might be a plausible area for some sort of rematch. Instead, Dakarai is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his opponent is crouched on the tiles beside Salt, briefly spawning the unpleasant mental image of having been traded to another trainer, of having done badly enough to be discarded by his master.
Forelimbs are rubbed together as he looks around for his trainer. Dakarai would be here. Would he be upset? Losing was bad but his trainer understood sometimes other pokémon were stronger. Maybe losing without putting them to sleep was unforgivable and he'd been abandoned even though he was proud of being called useful.
The thought made him cold (but a different sort of cold to the cold earlier, that was painful ice frozen cold and not nervous disappointment failure cold) but the human in front of him didn't seem so bad. Sort of dappled sun warm and that didn't make sense at all. Salt shuffled and wondered if he'd be punished for moving closer anyway.
“Hello,” the stranger says. The tone is something Salt has troubles placing - he's certainly not had much opportunity to be exposed to it, but if he thinks about a little, the human appears to be being… friendly? A delicate hand extends toward him, flat of the palm turned in his direction, attentive eyes fixed on him, hand intending to come to rest against the firm surface of the mushroom. The fingers wouldn't be very threatening even in a different context - they're frail and the arm they're attached to doesn't look like it could deliver much of a blow, and they're very clearly not wielding Dakarai's weapon, so it would be trivial to reach up and crush them should they try anything. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Jagdish,” the human is saying, as if it were mistaking Salt for an equal. What an odd notion that would be!
Both clawtips were delicately rested on the ground. He didn't want to seem threatening. He didn't feel the urge to either and that was a little strange, there was a stranger in front of him but the stranger seemed nice and had introduced himself so he wasn't really a stranger, was he?
This wasn't a battle so there was no harm edging slightly close to the not-stranger Jagdish, was there?
“Do you have a name?” Jagdish asks, curiously, shifting from his crouch into something of a side-on sit, clearly unafraid of Salt. It's like hanging out with an old friend one's just inconveniently forgotten most of anything about. The question is strange, of course - it's not like Salt can pronounce his own human name, and since when do humans ask about what pokémon might potentially call themselves? The human's other hand rests itself lightly on the top curve of Salt's right foreclaw, and the one against the mushroom's elephant-like skin rubs across it soothingly.
“<Salt, but not know how to tell you that,>” the Parasect responded. Humans had markings they could share and the pokémon wondered if he could scratch some of those into the ground but the floor wasn't sand or dirt and he didn't know which symbols to scratch anyway.
The petting was nice. Dakarai didn't give pettings, just punishment. Maybe getting traded to Jagdish wasn't so bad.
“Is the name your trainer gave you your only name?” Jagdish asks with curiosity, not incredulousness, his gaze having wandered to the texture of the mushroom as if concerned about causing any potential harm. The greatest surprise, of course, is that a statement as abstract as the one Salt's just shared with Jagdish would be understood. Or it's a freak coincidence - it could always be a coincidence, right?
Jagdish was acting like he understood but he was a human and couldn't understand so he had to be talking just to be soothing. Yes? Unless he was a human-shaped pokémon but then he wouldn't be speaking or wearing clothes so he couldn't have understood.
Salt shook his head no at the second question and tentatively nudged at Jagdish's knee. Definitely human. But nice human.
“But it's the one you identify with,” Jagdish observes, softly. “Salt it is, then,” he smiles. “What would you like me to do with your pokéball, Salt? You're not attached to it, are you?” That, of course, makes for an especially cryptic question. Why would his new trainer ask him about his opinion of his place of stasis? It was a useful device, objectively speaking - it meant pain stopped sooner rather than later, after all, but it also tended to mean that pain happened in the first place, and it wasn't something Salt had ever had much of a choice about.
He must have been traded, Dakarai had told his new master his name. Did that mean no more whip? That would be nice. Even if this new trainer was strange.
Jagdish asked confusing questions. Of course he was attached to his pokéball, if you pressed the button he vanished into it and it didn't matter what was happening at the time. Hanging onto something didn't work so it had to be attached to him more than he could attach to anything else.
“<Can't unattach, it too strong,>” Salt chittered at last. At least pokéballs didn't hurt. Sometimes they stopped hurt! But not every time, only when you were in them for long enough.
That seems to prompt a chuckle. “Well, you're not going back into it unless you want to,” Jagdish explains, posture sagging slightly into something more casual, gaze anchoring itself on the Parasect's face again. “So, I was meaning more emotional attachment,” he comments. “Is it a good or a bad thing for you? If it's a bad thing I'll put it away forever; but if you like the safety it can give you, we can figure something out.”
Salt reared back a little in surprise. That wasn't coincidence. Jagdish understood him! Jagdish was a pokémon? Could pokémon use pokéballs? But he spoke human and pokémon couldn't speak human and this was very confusing.
The words weren't much better. Did his new trainer walk to battles? Everyone could chose to walk with him then. But pokéballs could be nice when you were hurt so you didn't have to walk back while burned and every motion hurt.
Jagdish regarded the motion with a sliver of concern, briefly wondering if he'd done something to disturb or upset the pokémon. As nothing more comes of it, though, he pulls his hands back and lets them rest in his skew lap, looking at Salt with a borderline parental expression. “You're confused,” he observes the obvious. “What's on your mind? Where shall I start?”
“<You walk to battles?>” Salt asked tentatively. A human understanding him was more confusing but maybe Jagdish was a very good guesser so asking a question he couldn't guess would be proof. “<You don't use pokéball after battle, make walk hurt?>” Jagdish seemed nice, surely he wouldn't do that. Then why did he seem to not like them?
Jagdish shakes his head, though a tinge of enlightenment enters his air, as if something fundamental had just dawned to him. “I don't own you. There will be no battles just for the prestige of your so-called 'owner' any more. No one will hurt you, be that pokémon or human - at least not if I can help it.” He tilts his head lightly. “Fair?”
“<…no battles?>” the Parasect repeated, bewildered. But wasn't the point of pokéballs to be tools to make pokémon fight for you? That could be why Jagdish didn't like them. But Jagdish battled Dakarai. “<Then why have pokémon?>” Was his new trainer going to let him go back to the wild? Salt wasn't sure how he felt about that. A little scared. This place felt nothing like where had been home.
“Well, about that… I don't,” Jagdish says across a light exhale. “But I have pokémon friends that let me keep my position up here without causing too much suspicion at first glance.” In a cautious motion, the fingers of his hands spread outward again as he leant himself forward and brought them up to Salt, running them across the carapace ina brief, firm but soothing gesture, then dropping them back into his lap. “And to protect me and each other,” he adds. “You can stay with us if you like, or go back to where you were caught, or we can get you a friendly human companion. It's up to you.”
The bug pokémon made an appreciative sound at the stroking and leaned a little against the gym leader's leg. He'd never thought about what he wanted. It just seemed obvious that he'd keep battling until another pokémon killed him or someone managed to kill his trainer. [ Former trainer. Salt thought he'd prefer to keep it that way. “<Can't go back, Dakarai will catch again. Has weapon that burns.>” The Parasect shuddered in memory.
“Oh no, he won't,” Jagdish assures, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone as he shifts his weight into a slightly less lopsided sit, shoulders rolling a little, an expectant sort of smile creasing the corners of his lips as if he had something to look forward to. “You see… it's very unlikely he'll leave this place alive. He's been very cruel to you and the others of 'his' team - and we really can't let him get away with that.”
How could Jagdish be sure Dakarai wouldn't wriggle loose and then come back and hurt everyone badly? He could build an even worse weapon and use it on Jagdish as well as all his pokémon. The Parasect clicked his mandibles nervously, not doubting Jagdish believed what he'd said but clearly uncertain he could do so. Salt wondered if he should stay here and find a dark corner to hide in near the door so he could try and Spore Dakarai before anybody got hurt.
“You don't believe me?” Jagdish asks, a fond amusement in his voice, trying to judge the Parasect's nervous body language correctly. “Do you want to see where he is now?”
Salt swayed back and forth. He didn't mean to imply Jagdish was wrong, but Dakarai was frightening and didn't stop and Jagdish could be getting tricked. “<Won't hurt us?>”
“No,” Jagdish smiles. “You'll understand when you see it, I promise.”
Jagdish was a strange human. Or probably-human. The grin reminded him of other trainers he'd seen and Salt wondered if Jagdish had a humanball because that would be a good way of stopping Dakarai as long as he was careful to keep a distance. Dakarai didn't have any ranged attacks.
Salt nodded. He'd go look at his former trainer and protect Jagdish from him just in case.
“Splendid,” Jagdish comments, glancing up at the room briefly as if either looking for something or simply casting his gaze out during a moment's thought. Then he's pushing to his feet, the motion slow, as if he were perhaps still reluctant to make any sudden motions around Salt, given how new everything was for the Parasect. His right hand's palm sets down on the top of the creature's exaggerated mushroom hat, and he begins to lead the way.
When the caravan of two with its casual, Parasect-geared walking pace reaches the cell, Salt feels much more secure in his assessment of Jagdish as a friendly human. It's a bit at odds with the notion of being made to see Dakarai again, but then… at the same time, it's Dakarai. For all the pain and fear, it's still his former trainer. At the very least, it's understandable that Jagdish might want to give him closure.
“Don't let him spook you,” Jagdish advises. “He has no power any more. Never forget that.” With that said, he gives a sharp whistle, casting his attention upwards and along the corridor. A pink light appears with only minimal delay, coalescing into the shape of a strange pokémon that Salt has never seen - a slender, rosy little bundle of fur with the brightest expression. “Mew-mew-mew,” she declares, pawing at Jagdish's face with its forepaws for a moment of expressed affection. He squeezes his eyes shut in instinct, some less meticulously controlled part of him certain the assault on his face might poke out an eye. “Keys please,” he says, bringing his free hand up to push two fingers in between his nose and the creature's chest.
“…Mew?” she hovers infront of him, tone a tinge stern, but still recognisably playful.
“…it's for our guest,” Jagdish comments exasperatedly, gesturing down at Salt. “Can we argue compensation later?”
She seems to consider that for a moment, her tail coiling and flicking about restlessly, indecisively. Then, just as Jagdish stirs as if to scold her, she nods contently and confirms: “Meeew. Mew-mew.” This pokémon has the strangest speech pattern. Salt can't understand a word of what she's saying, but Jagdish seems to have no problem deciphering it.
Either way, she's attached herself to the door and is staring at the lock with some concentration. A moment later, the mechanics within it clack and grind recognisably - and the door pops open as if unlocked.
“Thank you,” Jagdish says, earnestly… and reconsiders whether his decision to keep 'keys' solely in the form of psychic pokémon was still quite so clever a move as when he'd cooked up the scheme. The little extortionist. To be fair, she was probably just unbelievably impatient at this point - some snotty behaviour was to be expected.
His free hand grasps at the edge of the door and tugs it open.
Within is, recognisably, Dakarai. His legs are free, but his wrists are bound, wrapped by bands of metal, attached to the wall by linked chains. He can't chew through that. No doubt the situation was different not too long ago and he tried just that. The deathglare that's on his face certainly suits that much. He looks deeplly, venomously annoyed - not afraid.
✘ IN PROGRESS