The first stop on the grand adventure of Batsen Reshigah and his travel companion Devi Ravi is… Njoty. It's about as anticlimatic a start to explorative travel as conceivable, the town an unspired collection of blocks, feeling like a simple cluster of baked cement benefitting haphazardly from having been poured into shapes resembling houses beforehand. Nonetheless, as bland as Njoty must be for its citizens, the culture shock for someone from Togi, even if they've seen the city on several prior occasions, is nothing to sneeze at - Njoty is huge, and it's laughably simple to get lost.
As such, dusk is bleeding in from the horizon by the time they finally reach the building the pokégym is set into, a beacon of glass and steel with a chunk more personality than the streets they've been wandering through. It's less of a building and more of a greenhouse by the looks of things, at least on several floors, foliage pressed against the glass like a curious onlooker. But first and foremost, it's their first attempt to find a place to sleep for the night, and while they do have some finances to help them out, hotels shouldn't start to be a habit.
Just beside the sliding glass doors leading to the first floor, orthogonally aligned to the front of the building, is a monolithic sign of brushed metal, bulging outward to defy a flat-faced tradition, with information etched into its surface. Judging both by the abstract map of the building at the top of the sign and the assorted elegant letters beneath it, the first floor is the reception, the second the pokégym, and the rest of the building is filled with a lot of other things that don't matter. Certainly no hotel. But then, anything calling itself 'Pterygotamorphic Pokémon Science Center' didn't leave much hope of containing cheap accommodation not supplied by gymleaders taking pity on poor travelling pokémon trainers, so that hardly came as a surprise.
This town is always tricky for Batsen to navigate - partially because it's so huge, but mostly because every street looks identical. Of course, he'd been far too proud to ask for directions to the Pokémon Science Center until they'd already been wandering the streets for several hours. He'd been there a couple times before, long ago, to ask Dr. Kelebek about Torinai, but evidently it was long enough ago that he couldn't remember the exact sequence of turns to get there. And so, after several hours of frustrated wandering and occasional badgerings by Devi, he finally buckled and asked someone how to get there.
Right, okay, I see now, we were supposed to turn left at that first fountain,“ Batsen comments as the duo near the building housing the gym. He pauses to study the sign, noting the location of the Pokégym. ”… I don't know, are you sure they'll let us stay the night here?“ he asks, turning back to Devi with a sceptical glance.
Devi is flexing her fingers around the straps of her rucksack, staring at the word 'pokégym' with mixed emotions and the sense of uselessly building adrenalin in her arteries. This was it - the first stop on the eight-milestone journey. The more they'd left Togi, the more the thought had eaten into her - it was no longer optional. This was what her brain was geared toward now and it would accept no substitute distractions. As such, when Njoty had come into view, she'd started to badger Batsen about their first checkpoint, arguing that it was the best way to get potentially free accommodation for the night. It was true, but it was hardly her primary motivation - but she couldn't help but baulk at the notion of a gymbattle now that it was so much more tangible.
Her gaze slides off the sign and onto Batsen's face, morphing from its strained, ambiguous state into one of mild disorientation for a moment. Then she casts her glance up at the first storey of the building. ”… 'sure' might be overstating my confidence,“ she offers. “But it's a good first place to ask,” she adds, statement full of enthusiasm, grinning back at Batsen. She could do this. She could totally do this, she'd done her homework. Accommodation was an entirely conventional request to have, insomuch as the Sehto gym circuit could be said to have conventions, given that it was far removed from a common past time.
Said, taking the lead, she's peeled her attention away from the sign and is striding toward the glass doors, prompting them to open in greeting. The light inside is dim but well-placed, giving it a well-lit impression. The warm orange glow spilling down from the ceiling illuminates the reception desk and the receptionist himself, the curved structure and its occupant not quite central to someone entering the building, but nonetheless absolutely impossible to miss both from the inside and outside.
For a moment, Devi hesitates - should they be saying hello at the reception desk or was it more intended to be informational for those less certain of their destination? She's torn between turning up on the gymleader's doorstep without announcing herself and the notion of needlessly tearing the receptionist out of their work… whatever it is that they do when they're not saying hello.
Then the moment passes and she steps up to the reception, having decided that any chance to ruin their however slim chance at 'free accommodation' was entirely unacceptable. “Hello,” she says, prompting the inhabitant of the reception desk to glance up with a practised friendly expression, met with an equally practised friendly expression given in return. “We're looking to talk to Cecile Madhukar, do we need to register with you in some way before we head up?”
Batsen tugs on the shoulder straps of his rucksack, redistributing the weight slightly higher on his back, and then follows Devi through the glass doors. He lets her take the lead once they're inside - after all, she was the one who'd insisted on coming here.
The receptionist nods in response to her question. “One moment, let me just check her schedule - did you schedule an appointment with her?” he asks, even as his hands are moving to the computer keyboard to check the schedule.
Ah-point-meant. The emphasis is on the first syllable in Devi's head as her thoughts echo the word, and the rest of the word's lost itself somewhere, or is forming some kind of mutter. But of course, appointments are a thing, gymleaders have other tasks at hand beyond simply sitting on their hands waiting for pokétrainers, especially here in Sehto, so there's a wire of embarrassment tugging at her spine - but it's quick to dissipate. It was hard to make an appointment with people if you're walking through Sehto on foot, the estimated time of arrival at Nahla's pokégym, for example, was bound to be 'one and a half days from now, give or take a day', so she's reasonably certain they have a chance of elbowing their way in. Well. Depending on Cecile's stance.
“We're on the gym circuit,” she explains, shaking her head. “We're happy to wait if we have to, there is nowhere we need to be - though a five minute preliminary would be fantastic if it can be organised.” Right, Devi, when you're done using codewords and euphemisms, you might as well say 'we're temporarily homeless by choice at the moment and we need a place to stay', it couldn't possibly be much more obvious what you're fishing for without a direct mention.
“Ahh,” replies the receptionist as she mentions the gym circuit. Right, there were still occasionally people who did that - though he hadn't seen one in some time. “Well, you're in luck, it looks like she's free now - let me just give her a ring and let her know you're coming.”
The receptionist picks up the phone, presses a few buttons, and after waiting a good ten seconds, speaks into the receiver. “Hi, Cecile? It's Jason down in the lobby. I've got a couple of trainers here doing the gym circuit, is now a good time? …yeah. …there are two. …mm-hmm. …okay, good, I'll send them right up then.” He hangs up the phone, and turns back to Devi. “All right, you're all set. The elevator's right over there…” - he points down the hall - ”…and she's on the first floor. Good luck,“ he adds with a practiced smile.
There's a nervous tinge to Devi's demeanour as she watches Jason handle the phone conversation, increasingly lucid of that she's intruding on a complete stranger's free time. A different part of her is quick to point out that this is part of what they do, Sehto culture or not, but she can't help but feel a good chunk humbled by the prospect of Cecile making any space for them at all.
“Thank you,” she says, finally, trying not to grin in elation at the positive outcome - and the two words flit from her almost in unison as she realises she's been holding her breath for several long seconds. Adventure! This was totally an adventure. They were entirely at the whim of other people's willingness to put up with them, that was already quite adventurous on its own.
Her gaze finds Batsen, and the restrained grin finally pops into existence on her face - she's glowing. “Let's go,” she prompts, unnecessarily, extending her left hand as if a part of her was tempted to grab one of his sleeves to pull him along before changing its mind - then she's walking in a way that's trying very hard not to be an energetic bound across to the elevator. They could just take the stairs - it is, after all, just one floor - but Jason's pointed out the elevator and it feels rude to walk right past it.
It's all still a bit hard to believe that he's here, on the first stop in the circuit, about to battle in an actual pokégym. On the one hand, it's definitely exciting - he's done plenty of pokébattles before, but all of the 'friendly duel' variety, mostly with Dejan or Devi. The prospect of battling in any kind of 'official' capacity against highly experienced trainers is certainly an intimidating one - if he had to admit it, he's definitely a little scared. But that's part of having an adventure, he tells himself - one's never sure what will come next.
With a soft 'ding', the elevator doors open; Batsen steps in and pushes the small square button labeled '1'. The doors slowly glide shut behind the trainers, and an almost agonizingly slow elevator ride later, they open again.
The elevator opens into the moister atmosphere of the first floor. It's a surreal experience if there ever was one - were it not for the carpet running through it, forming a sharply delineated path between the plants, one might presume one's stepped out of the building entirely and into a jungle, like in some particularly spacetime-dicing video game. Devi's hooked her right hand into the respective trouser pocket, other hand still curled about its strap of her rucksack for subconscious support, and with a fascinated stare she takes in the landscape.
It certainly doesn't help combat her disorientation, but at least the way the carpet stretches through the floor makes for a rather obvious hint. Biting her lower lip lightly, Devi narrows her eyes with a confident excitement and starts an enthused stride along the path.
The wall that it eventually reveals has a noticeable curvature, much like the reception desk below, providing a theme - the building may be all straight edges and right angles, but the inside of it is quite set on not following that rule. Manual sliding doors of a rectangular design but following the curve of the wall - clearly not made of as solid a material as their surface texture implies - that could easily overlap each other are currently ajar enough to allow a medium-sized pokémon to amble through if it was so inclined, and between the straight edges, backed by a slab of shadow making up her gym, is Cecile Madhukar.
There's no name tag and her photo wasn't on the sign outside, but it's unmistakable by context: Her hands on her hips, attention on the strangers, waiting as she seems to be, it can really only be the gymleader.
“Gym circuit?” she 'echoes' Jason's introduction, tone somewhere between a friendly mock and a genuine curiosity. “You haven't looked at a map yet, have you?” she asks, tinge of amused incredulousness in her voice, letting her gaze drift between Devi and Batsen. A Butterfree bridges the gap between the bushes and low trees to her right and those to her left, fluttering nervously to get out of sight as quick as possible, mussing a few strands of her hair with the light breeze it kicks up in the process. Absent-mindedly, her right hand reaches up to pat her hair back down.
When the elevator doors slide open, Batsen's eyes widen momentarily in amazement, an almost childish curiosity quickly gripping him as he steps out, examining the plants. He's not much of a botanist, but he can still tell that these sorts of plants aren't native to this part of Sehto - some of them look like they'd be right at home in a rainforest. For a few minutes, he's standing just outside the closing doors, head slowly swiveling to take in as much of the atmosphere as he can - then he notices Devi's getting ahead of him, and hurries up to fall into stride just behind her, eyes glancing left and right as he follows.
A certain nervous tension winds its way into Batsen's posture when he meets Cecile's gaze, eyes quickly shifting off to the side, finding an interesting-looking plant. Her second comment seems to strike something of a nerve, though, given the mild glare it prompts. ”Yes, we've looked at a map,“ he replies, tone a bit more bristly than his usual - somewhat indignant, but not quite sure how insulted he should be.
“Most sane people are deterred by Vereheq and the Hollows,” Cecile points out, with a quirky, bemused emphasis on the word 'sane', clearly not in the least bothered by Batsen's bristly reaction. “Do I file you under 'stubborn' or 'insane'?” she inclines her head, smiling at them. There's no malice to the expression, despite the digs. Then, marking the question as rhetorical, she shakes her head, only to bring her left hand around to gesture in a single beckon for the both of them to follow. “Come on in, then.” Said, she's turning to face the slab of shadows, stepping toward it.
“You file us under 'Togi',” Devi comments, daring for a flatly delivered self-deprecating amusement.
“Oh,” Cecile remarks, glancing at her briefly over her shoulder, tone suggesting that that particular nugget of information explains everything, similarly flatly intoned, but no doubt no less humourously intended - if any place on Sehto's map was used to Togians, it was Njoty, after all.
The glare continues for a moment longer, before Batsen simply rolls his shoulders and lets out a huff, dispelling some of his tension. Being called crazy and stubborn he can handle - being from Togi, he's more than used to it from outsiders. Being called unprepared is something completely different. There's a mild amused smirk at Devi's answer to that question, and at Cecile's reaction. Yep. Just a couple of Togians doing the gym circuit, nothing odd at all about this.
A part of Cecile felt tempted to ask something she'd always wanted to ask about Togi, namely how they fared without a gym leader or similar institution, but then, the settlement was so small as that she supposed the answer was simply 'everyone knows everyone else' - and now doubt it would be unwelcome to pry in a way that was easily laid out as criticism, especially after she'd already said something to bristle one of them.
A moment later, she's lead the way into the gym and pulled the doors closed behind them, somehow simultaneously managing to lean across to a switch. The light flickers on above them, long neon tubes set into a very high ceiling - the gym spans two storeys, it seems, even if the outside of it betrays no such thing. It's especially apparent thanks to the residence in the back of it - it looks like Cecile lives here, behind a pane of glass. No pressure to keep the place cleaned up, right?
The floor is polished wood, strongly reminding of an indoor basketball court, though the markings on it don't quite conform. “In what order would you like to play? And do you have any rule preferences I should consider before I tell you that you can't have your toys?” she asks, smiling at the both of them.
A hint of unease begins to creep into Batsen's demeanor. Rule preferences. It's honestly not something he'd considered yet - it's a level of formality he's not used to in these battles. As for order… that's a question that's much easier to answer. His gaze shifts over to Devi expectantly. “You want to go first? This was your crazy idea, after all,” he says quietly.
“Gladly,” Devi responds, brimming with energy, kneading her hands against each other, fixing Cecile with a curious, eager gaze. The two gazes lock for a moment, fueling each other in their respective gleam - something slightly sinister at the edges of Cecile's and something almost childish in Devi's.
“Preference…” Devi echoes the word, a bit belatedly, rolling options around in her head. “Anything from one to four pokémon total, no more than two simultaneously… and… maybe playing-field?” She bites her lower lip lightly. “Just… I've never played by playing-field rules before, but I always thought they sounded like an exciting restriction. What do you think?”
Cecile seems to consider the premise, visibly contemplative. Then she nods lightly. “Fair,” she agrees. “I'm a dual battle type of player,” she reveals. “So let's do a two-two match. Another thing I insist on is sticking to moveset rules - and I'll be rather upset if you kill any of my lovelies, all right? I need them for things that are a little bit more important than battling and they have specialised knowledge from experience that makes them hard to replace.” There's very little threat in her tone, the explanation matter-of-fact, only stern for the necessary gravity of topic itself.
Of course, there's a thought - occasionally, pokémon die, even in friendly battles. It's a rare enough occurrence, what with instant recall and stasis saving the critters from even the worst of wounds, but it's a reminder what kind of forces they're toying with.
“Deal,” Devi nods, knowing that her agreement is a mere formality - if she disagreed, she'd be asked to leave, there'd not be a battle. But it certainly helps that she doesn't feel like there's anything in the rules she can't subscribe to. Her left shoulder shrugs the strap of the rucksack hanging onto it off and she brings the bag around in pivot around her right shoulder, fumbling with the latches. Keeping track of two pokémon simultaneously was taxing, but not impossible. Currently, her plan is to throw in Alula and Viracocha - the latter chiefly as a backup in case Cecile turns out to be obscenely well-guarded against the types that her advertised type-preference is weak to. From Devi's perspective, it's nearly always good to have a Normal pokémon on the playing field, both for sheer firepower and lack of crippling weaknesses.
Batsen takes a few steps back, eyes scanning between Devi and Cecile, content for the time being to simply observe. If he's going to do this next, he'd like to do so with as much information as he can gather. Two pokémon, moveset-only, no switch-outs… - he's not sure he's quite confident enough to restrict himself to that last one for his own battle, but Cecile doesn't seem like she'd force that particular issue. Torinai would be good against Bug-types, Kirin against Poison-types, and Jakuth would be reasonable against either, though moreso against the former. Unless there were surprises.
The battle is a fast-paced sequence of events that's over surprisingly quickly - it has nothing in common with a strategy game, with mulling each motion over, and surprisingly little in common with the friendly sparring Batsen is used to. It's clear that both parties need an instinct for their pokémon… or they'll lose just out of an instant's indecisiveness. For a moment, it seems difficult to comprehend that turn-based battle would widely be considered more difficult - but given some of the instinctive pokémon reactions in the battle itself, perhaps again understandable.
Cecile, commanding 'only' two bug pokémon or not, was nothing to sneeze at. A DISABLEd Fly and her spider's CONSTRICT made short work of the perceived primary antagonist to her team, Alula, Devi's Pidgeotto. It seemed more like chance had spoken in Devi's favour after only Viracocha and Cecile's Scyther remained on the field - and if Batsen's travel companion hadn't had some foresight to instruct her feline to SCREECH at the bug pokémon to weaken it, might not have resulted in her triumph at all.
As it was, Viracocha stood for a moment with a drooping, ajar muzzle, panting from the battle, tail lashing restlessly behind her, bruises invisible but for the clear discomfort lining her shape. A moment later sees her, too, engulfed in that familiar crimson glow and recalled into her pokéball.
Cecile's saunter is one of neither haste nor lethargy as she approaches. “Not bad,” she comments, genuinely, evidently neither disappointed or impressed with the battle. “Your battle-style is very attack-oriented,” she tells Devi, tone quite matter-of-fact. “I'd recommend you consider defensive moves occasionally, it could further improve your chances.”
If Devi feels spoken down to in any way, it's washed away in the triumphant afterglow, her face utterly distorted by a grin, 'Awesome!' oozing from every pore of her body, an energetic bounce to her even as she struggles to hold still. “Thank you for the tip,” automatically escapes her, not even parsed by her conscious mind. Someone sure is excited.
The battle's over much sooner than he expects, much more used to battles being more methodical and calculated, and less immediate and instinctive. There's a lot of rushed shouting and things flying and, in all honesty, it's a little exhilarating, even just watching from the sidelines. It's only a few moments after the battle is over that Batsen realizes his heart is pounding in his chest; he shuts his eyes and breathes slowly and deeply, trying to will his body back into a state of calm. No use being overly excited right now, that'll happen soon enough.
The observed battle gives him some ideas for a battle plan, though. Jakuth's probably going to be the primary target if he uses him, but he can also hold his own decently well. Meanwhile, he can use Kirin to help support - a few scenarios start to play out in his head, and some tentative plans start to grow from them. Okay, yes, he can do this. His pokémon can do this. Opening his eyes once more and taking another deep breath, he takes a few steps forward. “So I guess I'm next?” he offers, a bit of newfound excitement dancing in his expression.
Cecile puts on a pensive glance, right hand hooked into the respective pocket of her trousers at the thumb. Is she genuinely contemplating whether or not he's allowed to follow-up immediately? It hadn't sounded like she was going to give it a second thought earlier. Maybe she's just putting on a face, though. “Sure, why not,” she adds, finally, letting her expression morph to a smile. “Will you accept my battle rules as well? Two-two, moveset?”
Cecile's expression gives Batsen pause, and a mild tension creeps into his shoulder. “Er, if it's not too much trouble, of course,” he adds as a hasty afterthought. But then she accepts, and he relaxes a bit. “Sure, that's more than fair,” he replies with an emphatic nod. “Though if you'd rather take the time to heal your pokémon beforehand I don't mind waiting for a bit.”
“Oh no,” Cecile remarks. “That'll be quite fine. I still have a pair that are probably entirely eager to meet your two contestants,” she comments, a very slight sing-song laced into her tone, as if she were enjoying an injoke on some abstract level. The smile seems both genuine and somehow fundamentally unsettling. A brief glance wanders across to Devi, who's subconsciously started to hum, still wrapped up in a pleasant afterglow and grinning from ear to ear, but finds its primary target again on short notice, lingering on Batsen for a moment, before she peels herself away from him. ”…I should have just stayed at the far end of the hall,“ she adds, tone clearly rolling about in amusement, eyes screwing upwards in fleeting self-deprecation, and then she's walking away from them again, her left hand kneading at the back of her neck idly.
Batsen snickers lightly at Cecile's comment, hand fishing through his jacket pockets as she heads across the room. The two he pulls out, rather than having the standard coloration, appear to have had the normally-red hemisphere painted over. One sports a brownish-beige color criss-crossed by lines in a darker shade, forming a grid of rhombuses; the other seems to have been painted mostly black, except for a window of red in a stylized flame-like shape near the top of the sphere. Batsen shifts one into his free hand, and turns them so he can easily hit the buttons. For a few moments, he shuts his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to psyche himself up for this. Then he looks up to Cecile, smiling faintly and giving a small nod. “I'm ready whenever you are.”
She seems to consider the two pokéballs in his possession for a moment, as if curious whether it constituted a choice made or if he'd back out if she let hers out first - then nods across to him in acknowledgement and fishes two of her own pokéballs out of her pockets. How she tells them apart is hard to say, though there could be plenty signs on them that are invisible from a distance - not to mention that she has more than one pocket. A moment later, a Yanma and an Arbok shimmer into existence, latter visibly taking brief a moment to assess its surroundings, forked tongue tasting the air, reptilian head inclining in curiosity, attention quick to settle on Batsen and Devi, gaze switching between the two.
There's a momentary pause from Batsen as Cecile's pokémon materialize - just long enough for him to identify a Yanma and an Arbok. A faint smile tugs at his lips - given the pokémon he's chosen this shouldn't be too difficult. All right then, time to do this. With a slight motion of his fingers, the familiar crimson beams of light shoot out and resolve into shapes - a Houndoom and a Sandslash. There's a moment of confused curiosity from the latter, intrigued by the new environment - but then context clicks into place. This is a battle.
“Jakuth, FLAMETHROWER on the Yanma,” Batsen calls out with a gesture. Even as the Houndoom begins a swift advance, teeth bared and small wisps of smoke trailing from his nostrils, he adds: “Kirin, SAND-ATTACK the Arbok.”
It's as if the Yanma doesn't know what hit it - its forelimbs snap up and it lets itself drop to the floor, wings folding against its body as if prematurely catatonic. The burst of fire stings against Cecile and Batsen's skin even from a distance before it morphs into a stream of fire instead and adopts a more focussed direction, lapping at the smooth floor of the gym and gradually explaining some other slight uneven spots across the area, where the surface coating melted into a subtle wave invisible to all but more attentive eyes. The fire cascades across the fallen creature trying to ENDURE its plight, but Cecile seems comparatively nonchalant about it, an increasingly bitter narrowing of her eyes notwithstanding, perhaps laced with a certain annoyed subtext.
Meanwhile, the Arbok has lurched toward Kirin in an abrupt motion, twisting itself in the process and the thick, mighty coils of its body have WRAPped themselves into a helix around the slower pokémon, only to morph into an abrupt, full-body crushing grip. Just as its reptilian maw opens in preparation for an effective BITE, the Sandslash's SAND ATTACK hits, striking the serpent's eyes and causing it to hiss in irritation, turning its head away, its previously flared hood flattening against its neck for a moment - but it does not let go.
“Jakuth, back! That's enough!” Batsen shouts as the flames rush over the Yanma. …okay, in hindsight, maybe a flamethrower was a bit much, but at least it still looks to be alive? Jakuth gives a snort and takes a few steps back, glancing briefly to his owner. Batsen's attention has shifted to Kirin for the moment - that doesn't look like a particularly good situation. “Kirin, DEFENSE CURL,” he calls out, and a moment later adds “Jakuth, go help Kirin, BITE the Arbok.”
The Yanma… is definitely still alive. Distinctly crispy, with one wing mostly singed off, the other framed to the outside with a nasty looking black outline, but alive. The top layers of its carapace flake off as it opens its eyes, quivering - and a moment later it's found the strength to heave itself to a stand, only to adopt agile motions, gallopping forward toward Jakuth, uttering a high-pitched warcry, only to tackle itself against the Houndoom's side, mandibles gnashing, scurrying with an almost frightening speed across its body, clearly aiming for a REVERSAL of the situation by going for the Houndoom's eyes. A moment later, a howl escapes the canine as its eye is punctured by the insect's suicidal bite, jerking around and backing from its new intended target. Scratches begin to litter its muzzle, drawing blood, and one of its forepaws rises in instinct to try and get its unlikely opponent off - instead, the Yanma simply shifts to cling to the underside of the canine's neck, biting at the black fur and leaving deep wounds, only to sink mandibles into its throat.
Jakuth folds forward and downward, still blind on one eye, bewildered and disoriented, blood flowing freely from its eye and neck, dyeing the carapace of its assailant crimson in the segments previously of a different color. A rasped breath escapes it, before the whole assault becomes too much for it to handle - and it's out like a light, falling forward completely, trapping its limbs beneath itself at awkward angles, blood pooling beneath it.
At least the impact on its tail seems to have taken the Yanma out with it.
Meanwhile, Cecile's Arbok is acting on its initial instruction, maw snapping down to the foe trapped within its coils to BITE down on it. The teeth glance off the hard spiney plates of the Sandslash, ultimately closing around nothing but air, leaving a few traces of saliva against the back of the spiny rodent. It shakes its muzzle again and blinks, evidently still willing the grains of sand out of its eyes.
Batsen's eyes go wide as the Yanma assaults Jakuth, and for a few moments, all he can do is stare in mute horror at what's happening. Then he finally thaws out of his paralysis and cries out “JAKUTH!” The emotional urge to rush over to him is overwhelming, but by some miracle he's lucid enough to remember that this is the exact reason that pokéballs are so important. Hands fiddle with the black-and-red sphere, and a moment later a red glow swallows up the Houndoom, recalling him into stasis.
It takes several long seconds for him to purge the image of Jakuth lying there, bleeding profusely, from his mind, and to tug his focus back to the battle at hand. Eyes drag across to Kirin, still curled up and wrapped in the Arbok's coils. “Kirin, SLASH,” he manages to say, limbs still jittering.
The broken form of the insect that caused the generous smear of red on the ground is withdrawn just the same, leaving only the other two pokémon to decide the fight. The Arbok meanwhile seems to have decided - perhaps on its own, perhaps on Cecile's implicit instruction - that given its prior attempt at a BITE of Kirin failed, it should simply try its luck again, and as such has brought its muzzle down by the time Kirin's wiggled a forearm free, thus promptly SLASHing at the side of the Arbok's maw, dragging a digit in under its jaw and drawing a deep wound into the same, nearly pushing through into its mouth from under the same. The Arbok jerks back, twisting away, coils loosening but not quite releasing the Sandslash from its entrapment. Cecile's next instruction is loud and clear enough to be heard across the hall, perhaps deliberately spoken that way as to reach the pokémon's consciousness despite its agony: “GIGA DRAIN!”
There's a second-long delay between Batsen hearing that command and processing the implications. That's bad. That's incredibly, incredibly bad, and it needs to not happen. “Kirin! SAND-ATTACK, NOW!” he practically screams across the room.
The Sandslash doesn't need to be told twice, it seems - it manages to twist towards the Arbok's face and shoot a blast of sand in its eyes. Combined with the other pokémon's reeling from the earlier SLASH, there's actually a good chance he'll be able to wriggle his way free from those constricting coils.
The Arbok hisses in irritation and mild alarm, slight tremor running through it from the burning sensation against the underside of its jaw. A part of it is rather upset - it's had prey in its coils, this shouldn't be this difficult - but instincts are quite strong, and they're telling it to back away… or at least telling it to back away just enough that Kirin's finally able to pop out of its wholly undesired embrace and gain some distance. The Arbok recovers a moment later, and for a horrific moment, it's as if its gaping maws might finally close around Kirin, less with a BITE in mind and more with Cecile's instruction - but a moment before that might occur, it flinches back, left eye squeezing shut, no doubt irritated by a grain of sand.
With a grunt and a twist, Kirin's finally managed to get himself free from the terrible Arbok bearing down on him. Success! And with success he's started to run away, putting some distance between himself and his attacker.
For a moment, Batsen's horrified that the GIGA DRAIN is going to connect, but between Kirin's motions and the Arbok still flinching from the sand attack, he narrowly misses what's sure to be a grisly attack. Right. Time to strike back, and hopefully end this before it goes on for too much longer. “Kirin…” A ground-type move would be best, but the best he could use right now is DIG, and given that they're not exactly battling on ground… “ROLLOUT.” Hopefully that'll be enough.
As Kirin morphs itself into a bowling ball, the Arbok presents itself as a rather hapless pin, afflicted by the disorientation of two SAND-ATTACKs and the distracting slash under its muzzle, barbing fresh pinpricks of hot pain up its senses each time it moves its neck. A moment later, it's careened into, sweeped off its coils and utterly rearranged. Whump. If it's attempted a move, it's hard to tell what it even might have been given the circumstance.
Even as the Arbok is struggling to regain its bearings after that last hit, Kirin's tilting his roll, turning in a wide arc to line himself up for another go. Batsen's eyes dart back and forth between the Sandslash and the Arbok, and then he glances up to Cecile, expression half sheepishly apologetic, half expectant, grip on Kirin's pokéball shifting to recall him in an instant. Her Arbok's in no condition to fight back. Unless it has some other trick up its proverbial sleeves, the battle's over - but that's Cecile's call to make, not his.
The condition, of course, is twofold. On the one hand, the serpent is still in very good health given the degree of battering typically dished out in these battles; on the other, it won't be able to hit the Sandslash between its opponent's rolls and its own aggravated eyes. The creature had nothing on Cobran but luck with SAND ATTACK, but the outcome of this was practically inevitable now that the sequence of events had transpired as they did. Cecile grimaces, hesitating for a moment, before deciding that they'll likely punish themselves enough in the long run and that's satisfaction enough.
The pokémon disappears from the Sandslash's path an instant before impact.
Its pokéball vanishes into Cecile's left pocket and she exhales, letting her gaze linger for a moment on the crimson smear and the spot where the floor's otherwise smooth surface had curled slightly from the heat of Jakuth's FLAMETHROWER. For a moment, her eyes close, then she shakes her head and opens them again and brings her hands up to clap, briefly, not long enough to register as sarcastic - nor meant to be, despite the distance to it. Her Yanma would be fine and she couldn't quite bring herself to care about the Houndoom that had put it in that state, so all was fine. She approaches, slowly adopting a light smile. “Congratulations,” she comments. Then, not quite able to contain the comment, she adds: “For future reference, if gym leaders ask you not to kill their pokémon, you should consider that part of the ruleset unless you're fishing to be disqualified.” Sore spot?
An instant after the Arbok vanishes, Kirin is quick to follow, and both pokéballs are shoved shakily into his jacket pockets. He's still quivering with adrenaline after that match. Much more… intense than what he's used to, and a little bit terrifying. “Thanks,” he breathes in reply to her congratulation, shortly followed by a grimace. “I'm really sorry about that,” he replies, a self-deprecating cringe gripping his posturefor a moment. “I think I just let myself get carried away there; I'll be much more careful in the future.” Never mind that the Yanma practically tore off half of Jakuth's face afterwards. That wasn't horribly traumatic at all. He bites his lower lip - no use bringing that up now, it'll just start an argument that he's really not in the mood for. ”…if there's anything I can do to make that up to you, please let me know,“ he adds hastily instead.
There are quite a few things she'd like to tell him right now, but it's reined in with a fortunately strong urge for professionalism. For a moment, she closes her eyes, standing before him with a deceptively calm exterior. Then she's shaking her head a more genuine smile surfaces from her depths somewhere, a seed of forgiveness flowering in her gut. “It's fine,” she says, following up with a somewhat exaggerated breath, but nodding. “Both of you've deserved yourselves the Path Badge. If you'd come along to the back, please? I don't keep them on me.”