The thrill of the battle had worn off by now, leaving Devi feeling a bit a worn and battered, but they'd decided to continue travelling while still on a buzz and the wisps of mist announcing the Ruins were already coiling through the landscape around them as stray waysigns. She was still happy and she could make the trek, as could Batsen, no doubt, but the desire had morphed into wanting to have a nice sit down and a cup of tea rather than prolonged travel.
Mid-stride, Devi pauses, uttering a soft curse without losing her overall content composure, and a moment later sees her tug at one boot, grumbling quietly. “I swear, I have never understood how stones get into shoes,” she explains the brief interlude, shaking the boot until the offending nodule escapes it, only to tug it back onto the foot and straighten herself back out.
They haven't spoken about their battles yet - it seemed awkward at first for the sheer exhilaration it had brought them to have won and then it had become awkward because of the time that had passed, but now that she'd broken the silence…? “For that matter, I don't think I understand why Cecile was so irritated at you, either,” Devi comments, evidently staying on the 'things I don't understand' train of thought. “If she's willing to pull a REVERSAL on your Houndoom, it's a bit hypocritical of her to get up in arms about a FLAMETHROWER.”
Batsen cringes as he's reminded of that particular part of his battle with Cecile. “Can we not talk about that, please?” he asks. Evidently it's still something of a sore spot. Of course, now that the topic's been broached, there's not much for him to do but think about it - and a few moments later, he shakes his head and adds: “It makes sense. I nearly killed her pokémon, because… I don't even know why. Maybe I was just underestimating my chances of winning, so I used one of Jakuth's stronger moves to better my odds?”
“Did you honestly think the dragonfly would be anything but a thoroughly cooked crisp after a FLAMETHROWER?” Devi asks, evidently darkly bemused by the notion, but not to the point of holding it against him as Cecile seems to have done, shaking her head lightly. “But you've got the right idea - it's a competition, after all, and there's only one of two ways that can go: Either you win or you lose. And I see no reason to artificially increase your chance of losing by holding back. It's not like you told either of your pokémon to go back and kick the thing while it was down - that would be malicious. That I could understand getting her knickers in a twist about. But a single move?” She shakes her head. “Besides, she could have withdrawn the Yanma before the flames hit.” …that was undoubtedly true. The move had been wholly transparent, lest Cecile would not have instructed the Yanma to ENDURE the attack - and withdrawing was practically instantaneous. So… she'd been upset at him on a principle? Was that the subtext there?
Lips tug back in a light grimace at Devi's explanation - evidently there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right with him, though it's hard to find exactly what it is. Her final comment makes sense, though - he'd loudly broadcast what Jakuth was doing, and there'd been plenty of time for her to recall her Yanma. She'd had time to instruct it to ENDURE it, after all. “…yeah, maybe you're right,” he concedes, shrugging lightly. “Either way, though, it doesn't much matter now, does it? Jakuth's okay, her Yanma's okay, no harm done.”
Devi seems to have a token amusement at the notion that no harm was done, but it's fleeting and dissipates quickly, the soft hint of a chuckle coming with it dampened by the mists. Then, silence, her hands hooked against her trouser pockets as she saunters further along their path. They're sinking into the faded landscape, one step at a time. Her expression, capricious as it had been just before, slowly decides on a mood as her gaze dances through the landscape - one of concern. “…this place gives me the creeps,” she observes, though there's only marginal conviction behind it so far. Maybe they should have taken their chance with the mountain slopes or the river - not this exercise in mood lighting and horror movie set design. For a moment, that's her only reaction - then she's shrugging her rucksack off her shoulders and rummaging through it somewhat half-heartedly. Might as well grab the map and GPS, just in case.
As if prompted by Devi's observation, a shiver runs down Batsen's spine. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he remarks, hands burying themselves in his jacket pockets. “Remind me again, whose bright idea was it to keep going towards the Ruins?” he asks, shooting a mock-glare towards Devi.
As she stops to rummage through her rucksack, Batsen pauses, turning his gaze upwards. The sky's barely visible through the thick mists, and it's not long to sundown to boot. After a moment's thought, he pulls off his own rucksack, and starts searching through it, tugging out a small electric lantern. Given the stories about this place, they'll need it.
It takes her a few minutes to sort everything out, but then she's got her rucksack back on both shoulders, a slightly crinkled map of the Sehto in her left hand, and her hand-held device in the other, trying to gauge how realistic its current positional information was. Good so far.
They're quite a bit further into the Ruins so far, of course. Judging by the map, and the GPS, both, they've still got a longer, winding way to go. The urge to take a short-cut is strong, but easily combatted with the rational objection that they shouldn't do anything that puts them entirely at the whim of their tools out here. They might fail for any reason. They might be stolen. They might be damaged by pokémon. They might happen up on a nest of pokémon, for that matter, and then be in serious trouble.
With the subjective preliminaries finally sorted, something occurs to her. “…are you still writing that journal of yours?” Curiosity tinges her tone as she briefly peers across at Batsen as if he might be writing in it right now, ludicrous as that notion was, what with them being on foot and in motion, but her subconscious apparently won't have any of that logic business interfering with it.
With the lantern found and the buckles on his rucksack tightly secured, Batsen hefts it back onto his shoulders, and after a few minor adjustments for comfort and a quick flick of the lantern's power switch, they're off again. So far the lantern's probably not strictly necessary, but it's certainly better than the ambient light, even if it gives the mists that much more of a creepy vibe.
Batsen nods, and lifts his left hand to tap at the right side of his jacket, over his chest, where the journal and a mechanical pencil are stashed in an inside pocket. “Yep, it's right here. I wrote a quick entry in it while we were waiting in the pokécenter, I was thinking of writing a longer one the next time we rest.” His gaze turns to Devi, head tilting slightly in curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
The question prompts a grin in his travel companion. “You're making me wish I'd brought one along. Do you have a epic tale of our struggle against the Njoty gym leader yet, then?” she asks. “Because that was entirely epic, you realise. If this continues, you can write something that easily beats the dramaturgy of Lord of The Rings.” There's both humour and conviction in her tone.
Batsen cackles at the comparison. “Ehhh, I dunno. Tolkien was layering it on pretty thick, I dunno if I could beat out the master of 'dramaturgy',” he replies with a wide grin. “…but yeah, you're right, that was pretty epic, wasn't it?” he adds a moment later, gaze turning back to the path in front of them. “I mean, even if I just wrote about the struggle between Kirin and her Arbok it'd probably make a good story. 'So there Kirin was, trapped in the coils of his foe, the jaws of defeat closing around him…'” A pause. “Ooh, I like that, I should write that down.” After a bit of struggling with uncooperative pockets and trying to hold three things at once, he's jotted down a note in his journal - 'KIRIN - JAWS OF DEFEAT' - and stashed it away again.
“You realize, of course, that this means now we have to do the whole circuit, right?” he comments, grinning excitedly. “If for no other reason than so I have something suitably epic to write about in each city.”
“Honestly, I'd have harassed you into that if you'd dropped the ball, anyway,” Devi reveals with amusement. “I can do it on my own, but it's infinitely nicer to share the experience.” A pause. “So, what's the story on the gym leaders in our epic tale, anyway? They're clearly antagonists, so they should be just that, simply… more epically so. Demons? Crime lords? Evil overlords?” she muses, not at all bothered by the silliness of the conversation at this point. They were travelling to have fun and she wasn't going to let something as mundane as maturity get in the way of that.
The wide grin slowly shifts form, turning to a warm, sincere smile. That's really what all this is about, isn't it - taking a journey together, seeing the world, and taking delight in sharing the experience of it all. There's a pang of sadness to that thought too, wishing that Dejan could be here too, travelling with them, exploring the world, sharing their stories…
Thankfully, Devi's comments pull him away from those thoughts before they can drag him into morose cycles. “I like the evil overlords one,” he comments, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Maybe that's what the story's about, us freeing oppressed citizens from the tyrannical rule of the gym leaders!”
“Oh dear,” Devi responds, her tone one of exaggerated concern. “What evil ploy do we have to uncover? What clues have we found?” she asks, dramatically, passing the question to Batsen with a fond smirk on her face. Briefly, the expression is interrupted by another gaze down at the map and her GPS, then it resumes. “Clearly we should rest and hash this out right now,” she muses. So much for her token concern about Vereheq being creepy. Looks like she's all fired up again.
Batsen snickers. “I dunno, I hadn't thought there was an overarching evil ploy. Plan to take over the world, maybe?” he replies with a shrug. “It's suitably over-the-top, if a bit bland and generic.” He considers Devi's proposal to rest for a few moments, then shrugs non-committally. “Eh. I could rest or keep going for a bit longer, honestly, and hashing it out while walking is more fun. I can always write notes down later.”
Her expression morphs to a disappointed pout for an instant, then back into a grin. “All right,” she concedes. It was certainly more sane to keep moving. “In that case, let me see what I can come up with,” she announces enthusiastically and faux-dramatically. “Let's see, what do we know? There are eight gyms. There's no League on Sehto as on Kanto and Johto. We're on an extinct volcanic island. Vereheq is smothered in a permanent mist. You get little shiny badges for winning against a gym leader. I don't know. The badges are fragments of some legendary item of lore that can return Vereheq to its former glory or something along those lines?” she thinks aloud.
A glint of excitement sparks in Batsen's eye. “Ooh. I like that - or maybe the badges are the key to a secret shrine in the middle of the Crystal Sea, that… does something with the volcano somehow?” he ponders. “…though the only thing I can think of would be 'waking it back up', which would be pretty bad,” he adds after a pause. “Ooh, or maybe the badges combine into a legendary secret weapon that they don't want to fall into anyone's hands, lest they lose power over their cities?” This is getting sillier by the minute.
“Legendary secret weapon?” Devi asks, much as if he were saying something bland and boring, only to idle pluck the whip, inactive as it is, its strands curled up somewhere within its technological innards, out of her left pocket, serving as a make-shift hilt as it does - and a moment later, it comes to life, lightly glowing strands dragging across the uneven ground of the ruins, trailing mostly behind her as she walks. “Already have that,” she comments, darkly, lightly lashing it against the ground confidently a few times to animate the currently emerald-coloured, luminescent, but ultimately lifeless strands a little. A moment later and at firm press of a button, the strands withdraw back into the device much like a measuring tape.
A hint of uneasy tension creeps into Batsen's features as the whip comes to life, glowing with its emerald light. He'd seen the device plenty of times, of course, in various states of dissected, but it's only now, with Devi lashing those three tendrils about along the ground, that its original purpose is unmistakably clear. A weapon designed to be used against pokémon. On some level, it makes a certain amount of sense, if you're regularly dealing with those that are particularly unruly and dangerous around people - but that hardly made it any less unsettling that someone would design such a thing. Or that Devi would take comfort in using it.
“Not that I don't think it's good to be prepared to defend yourself should the worst come up,” Batsen mentions, tone indicating the change of subject as much as the content. “But I'm wondering why you're bringing that with you.” A moment after he says that, a possible reason occurs to him - it's Dejan's, after all. “If it's not something you mind talking about, that is,” he hastily adds.
Devi's paused in her stride, briefly seeming like a caricature of malevolence within Batsen's perception, as if perhaps considering just how to best strike at him for his careless enquiry - but then the dark fairytale dissolves and she shakes her head, smiling, though there is a tinge of bitterness in it as she shrugs, resuming her stride. “Not planning to end like my brother,” she says, coolly. “This far from home? I don't intend on being at the capricious whim of my pokémon for as much as an instant.” There's a distant, nervous edge to it that she's trying to conceal - and almost entirely succeeding. He might not pick up on it.
If she were anyone else, he might respond that there's nothing to worry about, that she's on fairly good terms with her pokémon and that pokémon generally didn't just decide to attack their trainers for no good reason - but given the circumstances, such a comment would be horribly inappropriate at best, and utterly disrespectful at worst. Instead, the response elicits a respectful nod and a sheepish, apologetic look from Devi's travelling companion. Either he's picked up on her nervousness and is staying silent because of it, or more likely he's simply oblivious to it, and unsure how to proceed with the conversation given the direction it's just unexpectedly taken. Maybe silence is the right move.
Devi seems to accept the silence as a change of subject - or rather, a return to their prior one - and exhales slowly and audibly, ridding herself of the tension the brief excursion into the painful recent past of her familial ties had brought. “Maybe there is a mythological pokémon trapped in the caldera. A Babel pokémon that could bridge the communicative gap between all sentient creatures,” she muses, trying to find humour again.
The subject change is evidently welcomed by Batsen, given the grin that spreads across his face at Devi's comment. “Ahh yes! That's awesome!” he replies, digging out his journal again to make light notes on that. “And we should totally come across some kind of mysterious tablet or mural or something like that in the ruins that hints at it - maybe an ancient Kyza prophecy or something.” He holds his arms above his head and intones in the most prophetic voice he can muster: “'And when the Chosen Ones have collected the Eight Shiny Trinkets of Power, they shall open the door to unprecedented prosperity for all.'” It takes great effort not to break into laughter at that, but somehow he manages - though not without grinning like a loon.
“…I could make the tablet, then you can find it,” Devi muses mischievously. “Or a scroll.” A pause. “Can you spare a page from your journal and your most obnoxiously formal pen?” Her face has scrunched up, but in clear amusement rather than any lingering resentment or bitterness - fortunately, negativity is as quick to vanish with her as it is to arise, making it easy to forget there was ever any issue.
That response breaks the last of Batsen's resolve to hold back his laughter, cackling mischievously at the notion. “What, so I can actually find a scroll with creepy foreshadowing on it?” he asks, glancing over at Devi with a borderline-manic grin. Okay, yeah, looks like they're doing this. “Hang on, let's find someplace…” - his eyes scan around in the fog, squinting at shadows. There's something over to his right that looks like it might be promising - “… - here, this way,” he beckons, and moments later he's doing what every horror story ever about this place should have convinced him not to, and stepping off the main path, heading towards what looks like it might be a decent place to sit down and hash this out properly.
The result is a narrative making it difficult to determine the original thought processes that fed into it at all, though it gets the core idea across in a reasonably straight-forward way; almost too straight-forward for something meant to be a hint and not a quest roadmap. 'The tomb amongst the heart of Thorn has found a use. Now the key to that tomb of fire lies in fragments; shards of the cardinal winds, guarded by the Demons that imprisoned Her. If the memory can be preserved, the tongue of beasts may not be lost to us forever.' It would help to have an African travel companion to at least make it sound vaguely exotic and hard to decipher - the part where the whole thing is in English certainly makes it very obviously not an ancient relic - but that was getting handwaved away in a hurry. They could always redraft it later, if they ended up hanging out with a Xhosa somewhere along their way. …providing such a person didn't mind their sense of humour.
Batsen nods as he reads over the 'scroll', a wide grin spreading across his face. “Niiice,” he comments. It's a bit straightforward, certainly - though there's enough vagueness in there that he can play along with his journal-self, and pretend it's all part of some grand mystery. Maybe they can revise it later, but for now, the page itself requires a few finishing touches.
He rolls it up into a tight cylinder, and thwacks it lightly against the corner of a ruined stone building a few times, giving it a few dents, before unrolling it again and inspecting his handiwork. “Well, that's better than nothing, but it could still use something else…” A few seconds later he snaps his fingers, and with an “I've got it,” he fishes Jakuth's pokéball out of his pocket. A second later, a crimson glow shines out from it, causing the fog to adopt that hue briefly until the Houndoom's shape becomes recognizable and condenses into solid form.
The first thing apparent to Jakuth as he materialises is that the pain is gone. For a brief moment of instinct, his muzzle dips regardless, token disorientation at where he is - a common issue pokémon kept in pokéballs learn to deal with, of course. But there's no battle going on, and the Yanma still gone, as it had been for the few moments before. The mists betray no obvious danger. His master is well, as is his travel companion. Which leaves him with the question of why he was summoned - this is clearly the middle of nowhere, that is no place for more post-battle scritches or treats. He gives a brief, throaty whine, black lips drawing back from his jagged white teeth, complaining about the lack of comfortable nest to collapse in and lose his tension and maybe doze a little to get rid of the lingering, phantom smell of insect - totally not traumatised for life, not ever, nuh-uh - then lets his tongue loll out of his muzzle as he pants, glancing at Batsen with some curiosity.
“Hey, boy,” Batsen comments with a smile, kneeling down next to the Houndoom as he tucks the pokéball away, same hand coming up a moment later for a gentle scritch behind the horns. “You did good today, I'm proud of you,” he adds, tone praising. After a few more moments of attention, he shifts his gaze back to the sheet of paper, and a frown tugs lightly at his lips. He doesn't want Jakuth burning the entire page; normally he'd get a stick and have Jakuth light that, but all the wood here is probably too damp to use effectively. He probably should have thought this through a bit more carefully before calling him out.
After a bit of consideration, he decides to just try for the best igniting the rolled edges, and see how well that works. With a bit of motion he rolls up the page once more, and holds it in the middle, one end sticking out. “All right, Jakuth, pay attention for a second. I need some fire, but JUST on the tip here…” - he loops his thumb and index finger around the end of the cylinder in demonstration - “…all right?” His gaze swivels around to meet the Houndoom's, assessing whether the instruction was understood. It's always a bit hard to gauge these things - Jakuth's certainly clever, and is usually pretty good at following relatively complicated instructions, assuming he can figure out what Batsen means from what he says - not always a trivial task.
Jakuth tilts his muzzle, briefly lashing his tongue up against his teeth. No, that's not a treat, even if it bears vague semblance to a bone. He's not stupid, he knows it's not a treat, but it is making him want one badly. Somewhat inverse to the mood invoked by that, his tail begins to wag, slowly at first, then more enthusiastically. They're going to play a game! It's the good sort of game where no one gets hurt. This is great. He barks once in approval, lapping at his gums a little as he listens attentively. Fire is a thing he can do. Fire is totally a thing he can do, it burns things to crisps on a wholly reliable basis, Yanma notwithstanding. Pride infects his stance and straightens him out, giving him an alert, dangerous air despite the wagging tail. Master is still happy with his fire, then! But… just a little? He works his jaw for a moment. Can he do that? Can he do just a little? Smoke huffs from his nostrils as he eyes the scroll. He knows paper when he sees it, that's going to burn his master's hand if he's not careful. That would be bad. His lips draw back from his teeth again as he emits another whine, then he gives himself a bit of a shake and puffs a hint of a flame out like a hollow breath to the side, at first testing his own strength, watching the transparent, barely visible filaments disperse before they've much formed. That should totally work. His tail wags a little harder and his attention snaps back to the scroll. Some fire on the tip of the paper! Yeah! Struggling not to let his enthusiasm ruin it by making him put too much energy into it, he exhales another trace of flame across the indicated edge. Promptly, his tongue lolls back out and he grins at his master proudly as he pants.
A grin surfaces on Batsen's face, and a moment later he's blowing on the edge of the paper, putting out the flames after two breaths, though it takes a few moments for the bright orange-red embers to die down to black. He unravels the page and examines their handiwork with glee. “Great, that was perfect. Okay, once more, on the other side.” He rolls the page up again and holds out the opposite end, this one a bit more jagged as it was torn out.
He's done well! Master is smiling. The tail wags a little harder, until Jakuth realises that it's beginning to ache a little at the base from the exertion he's putting into it. The frequency slows, but the area sweeped by it doesn't diminish in the slightest. He pants for a moment, registering the instruction. Again? Yes, yes, he can do that again. He'll be very happy to do that again. Maybe if he does it well, also, master will play more games like these with him and less of those putting him into the same room with a Yanma that just will not die like it ought to. Gently, he huffs another delicate flame at the other end of the paper, too. This is so great.
Once more, the paper ignites, and once more Batsen is quick to put out the flame, watching the scroll carefully as the hot embers cool. He unravels it again, taking care to keep his hands from the still-smouldering edges. There's a small smile and an approving nod - now it really looks like it could be an ancient scroll that's seen some wear. Or like someone tried to get that effect with judicious use of Houndoom-flame. “Devi, check this out, what do you think?” he says, attention turning back to his travelling companion as he holds the page out for her to inspect.
Devi regards the page for a moment in sceptical scrutiny - then her expression lights up in faked surprise and she declares, in the most dramatic possible way: “Batsen! Oh my gosh! Where did you find that? What does it say?”
Jakuth, meanwhile, regards the scene with confusion. What's going on? This doesn't make any sense. Why did her tone change? His gaze swerves to her line of sight, but finds only Batsen and the charred paper along that imagined line. He laps at his gums again, silently, the wag of his tail slowing as he tries to puzzle it out. Is this part of the game? Should he be doing something?
Batsen can't quite manage to stifle a grin at Devi's reaction, but he's quick to catch on. “Let's take a look!” he announces, taking a few moments to adjust the scroll and reading it aloud in the most dramatic voice he can muster. “Hmmm, mysterious,” he adds afterwards, stroking his chin for added effect. “I wonder what on earth it could mean? Could it be a clue to solving some ancient mystery?” He pauses dramatically, before concluding: “I should probably keep it in my journal, for safe keeping.”
“What of that mysterious fragment we acquired back in Njoty? Could it possible relate? But no, that would be far too much of a coincidence,” Devi rambles on in the same tone as before. “Let's continue travelling and find out!”
Everyone is acting strange. They seem to be all right, no one's hurt, nothing is attacking them, but they are acting strange and it's confusing and alarming. His tail stops its sway, head drifting down subtly until his neck is held straight, and then a single bark escapes him, the Houndoom equivalent of 'please explain what is going on now!'.
The bark draws Batsen's attention back to Jakuth, a frown of mild confusion on his face. He doesn't seem to think there's a threat nearby given his stance, but he's still visibly upset about something… - his right hand leaves the page to scritch behind Jakuth's horns as soothingly as he can. “Hey, Jakuth, what's wrong?”
And there it is, the third whine, dipping off into a sound not quite a whimper and not quite a grr of content at the scritch. The tail begins a slow, cautious, but no less heart-felt wag again. Meanwhile, Devi's glowing exterior's gotten something of a chip - a look of mildest disapproval or unease is creasing her expression as she watches Jakuth's interaction with Batsen.
Slowly, the concerned expression fades into a faint smile. Whatever it was that upset Jakuth, it apparently wasn't very important. Once he's reasonably sure Jakuth's not freaking out for no apparent reason, he stops scritching to put the page back in the journal, hanging loosely between the last page and the back cover, and to put the journal back in his inner pocket where it belongs.
Then he's shrugging the rucksack off his shoulders, concentratedly digging through its contents for a few moments. With a light sound of victory, he tugs free a small plastic baggy, filled with hard, bone-shaped treats. “For two jobs well-done,” he comments, pulling two treats out and holding them out for Jakuth in the palm of his hand.
✘ IN PROGRESS