Sitting on a partly decayed wooden bench off the southernmost tip of Togi, Devi Ravi stares down at the pokéball lightly held in her left hand, fingers rolling it as if its contents could somehow be discerned by simply staring at its exterior long enough. She's not sure what to call this alien emotion she feels, whether it's fear or grief or anger or any mix of the same, somewhere beneath a thin but poisoning veil of self-pity, but there would need to be consequences. She'd put them off for too many days already.
Maybe the simplest option was also the best. Maybe she should simply release all her pokémon and be done with it - but in a twisted way, they seemed like it was the only tangible memory of Dejan. The item Batsen had passed onto her was far more veritably his, but she had never seen Dejan use it - in fact, he'd hardly seemed the type - whereas her pokémon was something she and Dejan had shared, growing up together as they'd grown up with each other, if certainly not for nearly as long a time span.
Saccharine had hardly known Dejan, but even that fleeting contact had seemed to grant the reptile a warmth toward her brother. The keyword was certainly 'seemed' - she no longer knew how to interpret it, not with her currently so bitter hindsight.
The part of her still set in its own ways wanted to call Saccharine forth and ask it what it wanted, whether it would rather be released or given to a different trainer, or if the bond was too great - but she baulked at the idea now, not finding it in herself to trust a statement from a creature wholly capable of twisting the life out of her on a whim. Her right hand absent-mindedly runs the tip of its index finger along the whip's hilt, her reassurance - if she can't rely on pokémon to defend her, if they themselves pose a threat, then this serves that so coldly abandoned purpose comfortably.
She's not violent, though, and the thought of having to raise it in self-defence sits as a knot of nausea in the pit of her stomach. But she knows she'll never get anywhere with that attitude - when in doubt, they're faster than her conscious assessment. It was reflex she'd have to train herself for if she wanted it to serve its purpose with pokémon not under control of her pokéballs.
Finally, a morbid curiosity wins her over, and she inhales flimsily - she'll have to let Saccharine out of its pokéball the one or other way, at the very least to figure out how she felt about it now that Dejan was dead. At the very least to find out what its very shape represented to her mind. The pokéball rolls silently amongst her fingers, only to come to brief rest in a position where the shift of a finger depresses its button.
A dim red light leaps from the confines of the device and in the thick shadows of Togi's forest, lit only by stray patches of sunlight filtering through the canopy, her Sundisquama appears.
There's a brief moment of disorientation from the small, lizard-like pokémon, as he whips his head around, eyes swiftly scanning for threats, the four long stalks on his back flayed outwards in a defensive posture. He's elsewhere now, but the forest is still familiar. And the only other thing here is one of his humans - the younger one, Devi. No threats, no enemies. He relaxes noticeably, turning his gaze upward to Devi's face. His head tilts to one side in curiosity, and a soft, bubbly sound somewhere between a coo and a chirp escapes him. Why did she bring him out of his ball? …are they going to play a game? That would be fun. He likes games.
Inhale. Exhale. Devi regards Saccharine with a mixed expression, skin crawling lightly. She wants to like Saccharine, she really does, but it takes an effort that only pushes her to a greater emotional distance given her experience. Saccharine had never harmed her, why would it start now? But that line of thought is quickly strangled - the same question could be asked of Dejan's pokémon. He'd never mistreated them.
She holds herself still, resisting the immediate urge to simply withdraw it to its pokéball. Her lips press to a thin line. “Hi, Saccharine,” she greets it, tone thin, finding herself at loss for pokémon conversation material. Could pokémon understand her? Dejan had always claimed they could, but the nurse at the PokéCenter had insisted they had only limited comprehension. Would it understand her if she spoke of loss and grief? Likely not. She falters, out of immediate ideas. Maybe just… sitting here and waiting for the thing to do something out of its own volition would be interesting and insightful? She's not sure, but for now, it'll have to do as half-hearted reason why she's just sitting here while she can't seem to think of anything else.
The Sundisquama blinks a few times, staring at her with a confused expression. She's certainly not happy to see him, so they're probably not going to play a game. Pity. She looks… upset? Did he do something wrong? No, he's pretty sure he didn't, but it's so hard to tell what humans want sometimes. Is she hurt? She doesn't look like she's in pain. Maybe he did something wrong and he doesn't know what it is. Or maybe she's upset at something else? It's so puzzling. Maybe… maybe she wants comforting? That sounds plausible. Yeah, that must be it. Or at least he's pretty sure that's it.
Saccharine steps closer to Devi, long tendrils lowered and trailing behind him. He utters a sound that's some vague cousin of a purr, and moves to brush his head gently against her right hand, before he opens his maw just enough for the tongue to come out and lick at the hand playfully.
Two weeks ago, she might have reacted to the gesture with affection of her own, but now, while she recognises it as a kind motion, her perception of it is laced with dread, and she wills herself to be still rather than draw back out of a disheveled instinct. Her fingers twitch, caught between the urge to pull away and the urge to stroke fingertips along that small muzzle.
Maybe she should have asked Batsen to accompany her, or anyone else, really, just so she'd have less instinctive cause to feel vulnerable. As it is, her gaze traces along the long sundew-like appendages of the creature, wondering if she might not have been better advised trying to get over her recent fears with something safer. Viracocha or Alula might be easiest to deal with. Saccharine, on the other hand, had too much potentially hazardous body area. “Do you remember Dejan?” she asks, not sure what sort of response she's expecting, but deciding she has to talk, do something, because if she's just passively sitting here, she'll just work herself into a state.
Saccharine ceases licking at her hand when Devi speaks up again, perking up when she mentions Dejan's name. Dejan! Yes, he was just fighting for Dejan a few moments ago, when he was last put in his ball. He puts his forepaws on Devi's forearm, looking around. Is he here too? A few seconds later, a second thought occurs to him: Does Dejan need help? Eyes turn back to Devi's face, concerned.
Judging by its mannerisms, it either recognised the name 'Dejan' and was looking for her brother - the mere fleeting thought of that squeezes her gut uncomfortably - or it had just heard something in the forest her ears hadn't made out and was briefly distracted by it. It doesn't matter, though, she'd decided - whether it understands or not, she's going to tell it what's on her mind. “Dejan…” she begins, feeling just the faintest sliver of revulsion at the idea of explaining this to a pokémon, of all things. “…Dejan was terminally wounded by his Scyther.” A pause, then her voice adopts a deep tinge of bitter misery: “He won't be coming back.”
Words words words. 'Dejan' is familiar, of course, and 'Scyther', and maybe a couple of the other ones sound vaguely familiar, but for the most part they're just funny sounds that humans make. And it doesn't sound like a command, so he's still not sure whether Devi wants him to do anything in particular.
But even so, he hardly needs to understand her words to intuit that something is very wrong. Where is Dejan? Did something bad happen to him? Is he okay? Concern shifts to worry, and Saccharine utters a soft whine, clambering up Devi's arm to perch on her shoulder, long tendrils trailing behind him, running roughly parallel to Devi's arm but still keeping a moderate distance. He keeps looking around, as if hoping to find Dejan hiding somewhere.
Devi's reaction is an abrupt lean away from the clambering pokémon. “Get off me,” she hisses, words masking what would otherwise have been a whimper, the tone of her voice a bit strangled and broken apart by the visceral pang of fear the Sundisquama's provoked in her gut, but predominantly authoritative bordering venomous, an abrupt change in her mood from the pokémon's perspective. No amount of rational attempt to tell herself it's just being friendly as usual is doing the job of assuaging that instinctual fear - and her grip on the pokéball tightens, though she manages to resist the urge to recall Saccharine for now.
There's another whimper from the pokémon as Devi hisses at him. He hesitates for a moment, during which it seems like he either doesn't understand or is ignoring the command; then he's turning himself around on her shoulder awkwardly, trying to get down the same way he came up. For a terrifying instant, it looks like one of the tendrils might brush against her skin, but then it stops itself and the small lizard is bounding down her arm as quick as it can, the tiny stalks tipped with sticky resin rushing by, centimeters from her face.
The tender beginnings of a shriek knot in her lungs and throat, but the moment is over before it can surface. Her teeth grit as she focusses on calming herself. Nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. Saccharine was simply obeying her command.
For a moment, she allows herself the luxury of closing her eyes, breathing slowly as she does. Then she peels them back open, glancing down at Saccharine with conflicting emotions again. A part of her wanted to apologise for the brash reaction - the other part of her just wanted to make it disinclined from ever approaching her again.
“Don't do that again,” she says. “Okay? Just… keep your distance.” A pause, as the otherwise overwhelmed part of her manages to get a word in: “Please.”
Saccharine whimpers slightly, staring at Devi with a confused expression. Why did she yell at him? Did he do something wrong? He's climbed on her before, and she never yelled at him for it then. So what's wrong now? Maybe it's because she's upset this time. Maybe it has something to do with Dejan, and why he's not here.
Whatever the reason, 'Don'tdothatagain' is one of the words he knows what it means, having heard it a lot, and he gives a curt nod to show he understands, just like Dejan taught him to do. No more climbing on Devi's shoulder. Even though she used to like it. It's almost like she's a completely different human now. So confusing.
Okay. Okay, everything's fine now. It's keeping some distance and it's not making any motions to change that or, worse yet, lash out at her in any way. Still the Saccharine she's always known, really, even if her gut refuses to acknowledge anything of the sort.
For a long moment, she's simply staring warily down at her Sundisquama - then she thaws out of it with a soft huff. “This is probably really confusing for you, isn't it?” she asks, voice steady again, much more like she used to be. “Let's take our minds off this, shall we?” she offers, a hint of light-hearted demeanour daring to surface in her. “Want to catch something with me?” she asks, encouragingly.
Saccharine chirps lightly, tone rising, questioning, curious. Then he processes Devi's request, and utters a high-pitched, delighted tone, tendrils perking up from their lowered, submissive posture. She wants to play a game! She wants to play the catching game - his favorite game! His earlier concern is dissolved away, effortlessly replaced by excited glee.
Almost cautious in motion, Devi pushes herself to rise, no longer quite as comfortable making sudden movements around pokémon as she used to be. Her right hand scoops Dejan's device up from the seat of the bench and finds the strength to stop staring at her Sundisquama, instead glancing into the foliage ahead. Her lower lip finds itself trapped between her teeth for a moment, then she nods to herself, exhaling audibly, and gestures with the hand still lightly holding Saccharine's pokéball - her true lifeline, not the device she has no practical experience with - along the faint path winding through the inky shadows. “Engage the first thing you find,” she instructs. “And drag it into the light,” she concludes, gesturing almost absent-mindedly toward a cluster of light filtering in from above not far from their current position.
On other days, she might be inclined to add an additional challenge, 'Try to find a pokémon of a specific type,' for example, or 'Find something of a certain colour,' or the likes, but today her nerves are too raw for that sort of fluff. She's here to watch Saccharine be Saccharine, and the less of her own opinions she imposed on him, the more she had a chance of being at ease around him again. So's the theory, at least.
Saccharine nods twice, then darts off into the depths of the forest. There's a bit of rustling in the leaves, and then nothing besides the usual sounds of the forest.
Find something, drag it out into the light. Easy enough. Silently, gracefully, he stalks through the forest, searching for prey. A flutter of movement catches his eye; he turns his head to see a lone Spearow resting on a nearby branch. A toothy grin creeps across the Sundisquama's small face. Long ago, before he'd met Dejan and Devi, he'd never have engaged a Spearow in the forest, afraid of their vicious beaks. But he's much stronger now; a wild Spearow is hardly a danger to him. Red eyes latch onto his prey, tendrils slowly rise - he hasn't been noticed yet, he can take his time to line up just right…
>Thwap!< >Squawk!< Before the Spearow knows what's hit it, there's a pair of long, sticky tendrils wrapped around it, slowly squeezing the breath out of it. It utters a frightening growl and starts trying to peck away at the tendrils holding it, but Saccharine's other pair of long tendrils come down on it swiftly, whipping across its feathers. Perhaps not the most effective form of attack, but it hardly matters - between Saccharine's superior training and the slow, methodical pressure of the coiled tendrils, the Spearow doesn't stand much of a chance.
If he wanted to kill it, he certainly could, without too much difficulty. But that would be against the rules of the game. He's not aiming to kill, but to weaken, and he's certainly done that adequately. With a bit of effort, he tugs the Spearow off the branch, and then is steadily heading back towards Devi, the unfortunate pokémon in tow. He's played his part of the game, and had his fun, but now it's her turn to do her part.
The hapless bird is sluggishly twisting within the Sundisquama's grasp, beak opening and closing slowly but methodically, trying to gasp in air despite the tight, sticky hold of its small body, some of its feathers by now stuck together from its struggle, useless for flight. Its gaze rolls about uselessly, swerving through the canopies where no information of interest to its unfortunate situation resides. Its right talon is reasonably free, reaching out blindly to scratch at its assailant.
Devi regards the prize, promptly delivered as it had been. Her lips press to a thin line for a moment's contemplation, one foot taking a step back to steady her in a different posture, uncertainty in her shoulders. How far would Saccharine go for her? She'd never explored those limits and the uncertainty seemed prohibitive now, one of many variables she wanted to render static, form an image that was a coherent whole of her powerful little companion.
The grip on his pokéball tightens as the uncertainty of how the pokémon would react to her instruction grips her, unease bleeding into her posture. “Kill it,” she orders, voice hard-edged solely by merit of being deliberately curtly and abruptly spoken, granting herself no room for sending mixed signals or having second thoughts about it.
Saccharine tilts his head slightly, uttering a brief chirp. Kill it? Not 'knock it out' or 'disable it', but 'kill it'. It's a strange command to hear coming from Devi, but he does understand what it means - if only from having heard it from other trainers besides his own. But the conviction with which she said it implies she meant exactly what she said. She wants him to end this Spearow's life.
He drags the Spearow out in front of him, staring at it for a few moments, trying to decide how best to do what's been asked of him. To Devi, it might seem, however briefly, that he doesn't understand the command, or that he's not going to follow through on it. But then that abruptly changes, as he decides on the best move to use.
The coils around the Spearow's body start to tighten, and for an instant it looks like he's threatening to crush the pokémon using WRAP, before it becomes clear that it's not that lucky. The thin, sundew-like stalks grow rigid and sharp, piercing into the Spearow's flesh, eliciting a strangled cry from it. The tendrils begin to glow with a dim red light as they suck up the pokémon's blood, and Saccharine utters a soft purr as he feels the Spearow's life flooding into him.
Mercifully, the Spearow loses consciousness a few seconds into the process, but it continues on even after it's fallen, tendrils coiling tighter to sap up every drop of blood they can get. It's almost a full minute later that Saccharine finally drops the lifeless husk, swollen tendrils unwinding from it with a certain giddy energy that he can't quite seem to shake. He turns his crimson eyes up to Devi, cooing softly. Did he do a good job?
Even at the first sign of motion, Devi realises her mistake - this is nothing she wants to see. This is nothing she wants to know of, even. Nothing good can come of her command - but some bizarre notion of responsibility holds her still, holding her breath for long seconds as Saccharine complies.
Not only had it understood her command, but it had known how to execute it. A numb paralysis holds her, some colour draining from her face. It hadn't questioned her order. The part of her that had considered that outcome proper and positive has evaporated, staring at the drained, broken avian body and the horrific insight it represented: Saccharine could kill. It could kill just like Dejan's pokémon had killed its master and now Saccharine was looking at her with an alien brightness. A part of her wanted to ask: 'You enjoyed that, didn't you?', half mortified, half pleased in a forgotten instinct spawned from their past relationship… but the very first syllable falters before it's more than a twitch in her expression - she doesn't want to know. It doesn't matter. Saccharine can kill - and it has few qualms doing it without hesitation.
“That didn't bother you in the least, did it?” she asks, hollowly, thin tinge of bitterness in the tone, the question a warped, less final variant of the one she'd initially had in mind. For a moment, she's acutely aware of her own body, and the knuckles of her right hand rub idly against the inside of her left wrist, across visible veins and arteries as if to dispel a phantom sensation.
A hint of confusion attempts to worm itself into Saccharine's demeanor, with limited success. He's just so full of energy now, having stolen it from the avian pokémon, that considering whether he made a mistake is too dull of a task for him to focus on right now. He did exactly what she wanted him to do, but she's still upset for some reason.
Oh, maybe she just needs cheering up! He can cheer her up, he's good at that! And he knows just the thing, too. A good, old-fashioned victory hug, just like they always used to do whenever he won a pokébattle! He bounds over to her, long tendrils winding gently around her torso as his neck nuzzles her ankle, purring softly.
The first pang of fear she feels as Saccharine approaches is stubbornly squashed by rational analysis - it's a motion slow given its capabilities, and it probably just wants to be comforting, and it's forgotten her earlier instruction. The thought is halfway through berating her for being a child when the pokémon is suddenly around her and it extinguishes, leaving behind a visceral fear of ending just like the unfortunate Spearow.
With visceral reactions came instincts she had no use for, and three of her fingers jerked away from the pokéball pressed to her palm, hand jerking up to grab at one of the tendrils in disregard of rational advice that it'd just get itself stuck to the Sundisquama, unlike her clothes, and recalling the pokémon was an infinitely better tactic. The damage was done before she could will the muscles in her hand and arm to be rational, though, and trying to reverse the motion - successful in itself, strictly speaking - only caused the pokéball to slip from her fingers tensed to talons.
With a curt cry of terror, her other hand fumbled with the contraption, even as a part of her dipped down and sideways to try and intercept the pokéball on its downward fall, then fish for it. An instant later, ankle jerking back from Saccharine, she's fallen backwards into a sit, stopped from a sprawl by the hard edge of the bench, and three brilliantly glowing lines erupt beside her, curving through the air for a moment's warning, before lashing toward the Sundisquama - fortunately rather uncoordinatedly. “Back!” she utters, the syllable distinctly more one of terror than command.
Saccharine's tendrils tighten briefly, an instinctive response to her squirming, before he consciously loosens them again, his purr shifting in tone to a worried chirp. Why is she flailing around like that? He's just trying to comfort her. He's not going to hurt her. She doesn't have anything to be afraid of. So why is she acting like he's a wild Sundisquama, and not the Saccharine she's always known?
His pokéball drops, and an instant later, she's fallen back, too quickly for him to react and try to catch her fall. There's a thud, and then lines of light, and then a lash of pain across his tendrils. Saccharine yelps, startled, and his tendrils unwind from Devi as he hisses in confusion, trying to make sense of what just attacked him.
It's backed away, and with that unfortunate positive reenforcement comes a lucidity. Her left hand's found Saccharine's pokéball, but she's raised her hand and where she might normally feel mortified at what she's done is a hot rage. “I told you to stay away!” she cries, still sat on the ground, pressing her bruised shoulder against the bench, still sturdy enough to offer only a hint of relenting fibres and provide something to lean back against. “Back off!” she repeats, a bit firmer in tone now, more resolute. The whip is raised, still with a neutral sheen in its three drooping lashes, but unmistakable source of the haphazard punishment from a moment ago.
Saccharine's eyes find the whip, then turn to Devi, then back to the whip. …what? She- She's just attacked him? She's just used that thing to attack him. He utters a soft, confused whine, not understanding Devi's sudden frantic orders. They're friends, aren't they? Friends don't attack each other. Maybe it was an accident? His crimson eyes turn back to Devi, tendrils floating back behind him. He wants to soothe her, but all his attempts to do so have ended in failure. He coos gently, taking a few tentative steps forward, in spite of her command.
A breath hisses from her, morphing into a sound of frustration, and a hastily formed armour of venom provides a fortress for her fear to hide within, making it considerably less apparent in her manner. “I said back off,” she snarls, voice jittering fractionally, and the whip lashes around again, this time far better aimed despite her near-prohibitive posture. She knows there's more to it than this one mode, but she's still largely running on automation, and it'd take a moment's calm inspection to remember exactly how to alter its effectiveness into a different type. This would do for now.
There's another yelp from Saccharine as the three-tongued whip lashes against his scales. This time he does back away, though he doesn't stop staring at her, confused, bewildered, and a little bit afraid. What's gotten into her? Why is she attacking him? It's almost like she's afraid of him, but why would she be?
Finally, the intended reaction - Saccharine is backing away. Of course, why wouldn't it? She's threatening bodily harm if he as much as approaches, it's only sane for it to listen. For a moment, she's catching her breath, her attention anchored on the pokémon. She should recall it now that she has its pokéball, but a part of her wants it to fully grasp its situation before it returns to the device, perhaps superstitiously afraid it might not remember the lesson if it's engulfed by the timeless and perceptionless void right now. Slowly, using the edge of her left hand - wrapped around that pokéball again as it is - to push herself from her awkward sit up into a stand.
Saccharine's eyes follow Devi's motions carefully, emotions tumbling around in his little head. Is… - is it over? Is she going to stop hurting him now, and give him a hug and they can go back to being friends and everything will be okay and they can go find Dejan and play lots more games and… and…?
Her expression isn't softening. At least that awful weapon seems to be idle for the moment, simply describing dim lines in the shadows of the forest. She seems to be waiting for something, staring at the disoriented pokémon as if expecting something to happen, tense, unfriendly. Then, finally, her statue-like posture dissolves into motion and she exhales. “I hope you've learnt to keep your distance,” she grumbles, more to herself, perhaps even subconsciously meaning to address herself - and a moment later, Saccharine's pokéball extends a crimson tendril to the Sundisquama, only for its reality to blink out.